Venomous
by Ninjer-8492
Summary: Set in a dark version of the Old Republic, where the Order is as dangerous as the Sith and familiar faces are no longer quite recognizable, The Jedi Exile struggles to confront her painful history and unravel a dark, twenty year old conspiracy while searching for the Lost Jedi Masters. Heavy AU and Original Characters, this story is an attempt at deconstructing Star Wars
1. We'll all pay

Mandalorian Wars, Battle of Dxun.

To know one's target is the most important thing, Valia Renn thought; understanding and knowledge of an enemy is crucial to carrying out a successful assassination. As a rule, she prided herself on knowing her targets, on exploiting their weaknesses, the cracks in their defenses. She read her enemies more fully then they could read themselves, and this had always given her a feeling of power. Once she read her enemy, it was only a matter of time before she ended their lives. In the course of her time in the Jedi Order-and even before that-she had killed dozens in defense of all she held dear. Her target tonight, however, was different.

Valia, had she the option, would have passed over this assignment to kill General Revan. She was no great friend, but they had been through much since the time they first met on Dantooine. Valia held some amount of grudging respect for her target. If one could not respect their target even a little, then one could not respect themselves. Valia had wrestled with herself in the days before to free herself of any lingering bitterness she held towards the beautiful Jedi Knight below. Such work was not for settling personal vendettas, but for protecting the Order from its most powerful members.

In many ways, Revan was little different from the other lives she had taken, she was blind to the consequences of her actions and insufferably self-righteous. She was also quite intelligent, not to mention the fact that her Force strength was almost inconceivable compared to the other targets she had dispatched.

From the moment Valia had 'joined' Revan, she had kept the Knight's growing power and influence under close, clandestine supervision. As Revan had grown in prominence, so, by necessity, had Valia, always watching from the shadows. Enduring public humiliation and banishment had been worth it to maintain her vigil and make certain that Revan's army would be dissolved by the end of the war to keep it out of her hands. Valia's scarred lips pursed bitterly at the thought of all the non-stop work, the under-the-table dealings, the sickening levels of back-stabbing behind the curtains of military politics meant to undermine the almost deified Jedi General. All so she could eventually cut the strings of the paper doll that was Revan.

Even if Revan had no intention of using her army against the Republic-something both her masters' found highly unlikely-Revan had openly defied the Jedi Order, betraying her masters' commands. For that alone the mark of death had been placed on her, as well as Alek and Bandon.

Thus they could receive no mercy or pity by her hand, whether or not she truly agreed with the decision to kill them.

She watched from her vantage point in the rafters of the large command building set deep in the jungles of Dxun. The drowning overhead rain pinged loudly on the thin steel roof a few feet above her as Valia let her good, bright green right eye drink in Revan's stunning beauty. That straight white hair that went down to her ears, that fine, icy pale skin, and glassy ruby eyes caused a needle of sharp pain in Valia's stomach. Most mistook Revan for an Echani, at least until they delved into her past. But Valia knew the truth. Revan had come from the unknown regions.

Valia knew this because she was from there herself.

The ruby eyes were a dead giveaway. Valia was intimately familiar with that red sheen of her irises. She had looked into dozens of pairs of identical eyes as she had cut down their owners those many years ago before fleeing her home in defeat. It was not a failure she intended to repeat. Though none of them had been anywhere near Revan's level of power, she always had a trump card for these sort of things. Valia also drew comfort from the fact that despite her target's power, she knew that Revan had invested her knowledge in only underachieving _Jedi _art forms, instead of some of the more lethal and exotic disciplines found on the outer rim. She did not have Valia's skills. This battle was already decided.

Valia's mind had been set from the very beginning. The three of them, Revan, Alek, and Bandon, were all going to die. The deaths were to be painful, violent, and gruesome-and were to send an irrefutable message to any Jedi who might think to disobey their masters in the future. It would also teach the Republic a lesson not to constantly draw Jedi into wars that were not their business. In a way, they were as equally culpable in the current situation.

As she stared at Revan, that same sharp pain in her stomach occurred again. Valia wondered why it happened whenever she stared at Revan for too long. Then she realized that the pain in her stomach was one of regret.

It was not a feeling that was foreign to her. Valia's life was one marked by it. Tonight would be no different, it seemed. She checked what few weapons she had, tightening her cortosis-strengthened gauntlets, and pulled on her Echani demon mask, a mask with a frightful looking face contorted into a perpetual snarl, a bronze scorpion fixed to its forehead.

The time to fight would be soon.

Alek entered the drab, sorry excuse for a command building first, grateful for a chance to be out of the never-ending rain. His compatriot Bandon entered next, and both took off their dark cloaks and wrung them out just outside the door. Water poured from the fabric as Alek flexed his powerful arm muscles beneath the flexible layers of his red armor. He tossed the still-damp cloak to the floor, his glistening bald head reflecting the ruddy light fixtures above him.

"Hey, Rev, our camp sensors picked up a couple of Mandalorian scouts on the perimeter, probably getting a feel for our defenses." Alek said in a conversational tone.

The distant and distracted Revan gave him only a cursory response. "Send Jaq and Cariaga, with a detachment. It should take two hours to find the scouts at the latest," she replied, barely glancing his way.

Alek finally worked up his courage to say something. He had been trying to work it up for weeks, but seeing that distant, confused look in Revan's eyes had finally done it.

"Rev," he began slowly, gesturing a much chagrined Bandon to leave and wait outside. Bandon cursed under his breath, but did as his friend asked and left.

"Yes, Alek?" she inquired.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, his tone now greatly concerned. "I've been getting really worried about you. You've been acting strange and your presence in the Force has been different these last few days."

"Does it truly show that much?" she asked, her velvet soft voice betraying nothing. "I'm sorry Alek. These days we have enough to worry about without adding me to the equation. But you're right. I feel...different, like I'm changing inside, and I know not how or why. The Force also feels different. I don't like this."

"Bandon always did say Kreia was bad news-"

Revan shook her head. "I don't mean Kreia. She has nothing to do with this. I'm...seeing things before they happen. I heal faster." Her chest tightened with anxiety. She did not like what was happening to her, and she had no idea how to stop it. She did not know what could have possibly triggered the changes she felt inside of her. All she had done was escape the constantly prying eyes and smothering dictates of the Jedi Council, especially that fool Vrook, who had always been poking his nose where it was not needed. During her time on Dantooine and Coruscant, it seemed to be his only purpose.

It did not seem to matter which Jedi master she trained with, they all told her she was an unusual and strikingly powerful student of the Force. These days, it seemed to be an understatement, that sentiment. Even Kreia, the greatest master of Jedi lore she had ever known had admitted she no longer knew how to help her, that she did not possess the knowledge required to guide one of Revan's power.

She knew Alek was only trying to help, but she did not know how he could. The most he could do seemed to consist of noticing the change. She rued the day that would soon come when even he, her best friend and future husband, would no longer know how to help her.

"Maybe you're just becoming more in tune with the Force." he managed feebly. But even as the words left his lips, he knew it wasn't the truth. The Force was surely playing a part, but it alone could not account for what was happening. It would have been like saying he wasn't bald. Revan's unreadable expression gave him pause before continuing.

"Look Rev, maybe you should leave. Maybe you should go find those groups of Force adherents on the fringes of the outer rim. I spent a lot of time in the Archives and there are several groups I know of who might be able to help you more than the Jedi can, at the moment."

Revan turned away from the sincere concern in his eyes. It pained her too much that he had to worry about her. "Why do you think the Jedi even want to help me?" she scoffed, putting on a show of confidence.

Alek wasn't fooled for a moment. "We may even find out what race you are!" he blurted in a mix of anger and bewilderment. "For almost as long as I could, I searched every database I could find, and I can conclusively say that you don't come from any race that is even remotely near the core or mid-rim!"

Revan crossed her arms, staring out of one of the windows as lightning flared outside. She sighed. "What does it really matter what I am, so long as what I _do _that counts?"

"I suppose you have a point there," Alek conceded. "I know you still have responsibilities to the Republic, with the war and all. But look at what it's doing to you! There has to be something for you after the war. This conflict is eating you alive!"

"The 'something' you speak of is the Jedi Council banishing me, exiling me..."

"Don't say that, Rev!" Alek pleaded. "They won't be able to stay mad once you've handed the Mandalorians their own heads on a stick! I bet even Vrook won't be able to stay mad!"

"Vrook is _always _mad," she joked, the humor not showing in her voice. "Alek?"

"Yes?"

"There is...something else. Lightsaber crystals cause me terrible pain when I am exposed to them. I can't be near them ever again."

Alek's eyebrows perked. "That is certainly _not _normal. I have never heard of a lightsaber crystal being lethal by itself."

"Tell me about it." she answered wistfully. She unhooked her lightsaber from the belt of her scarlet robes. She activated it, giving a swish. The corona of the blade was pink.

"Where did you get that crystal?" Alek asked, fascinated. "I've never seen one like it before."

"Bandon, if you can believe it." Revan replied, a small smile creeping up the corners of her mouth. "Apparently, he's been experimenting with artificial crystals. He just didn't like how the final color turned out."

Alek laughed a little. "It would have been damned funny to see him using a pink blade."

Alek's smile vanished when he watched Revan suddenly toss the lightsaber upward, holding her arm out as it fell to the floor.

His jaw dropped as it failed to cut through, its blade bouncing off her skin as it clattered to the floor, when by all rights it should have severed her arm at the elbow. He could only stare in astonishment.

High up above them, however, Valia Renn had tensed at the sight. The reason she had come here tonight, as opposed to waiting for all her carefully wrought plans to destroy Revan after the war, was to assess how powerful Revan was becoming and indeed if the impatient orders to destroy Revan tonight were truly worth following. Valia's fears had just been confirmed. If she did not kill Revan here, tonight, than she would eventually become too powerful for even one such as Valia to stop.

Their stealthy enemy watching, Revan and Alek turned to the harried figure of Bandon as he burst through the door, wet and dripping. His dark fiber-armor seemed to suck up the light around him and he wiped some of the water from his shaggy beard, his dark eyes blazing.

"We have a problem. There's an intruder in the camp."

Alek's face was still pale from witnessing Revan's feat. "Mandalorians?" he asked shakily.

Bandon shook his head. "Too silent. A soldier just led me to the body of General Hokar. There was not a bone on him that was not broken."

Revan cursed loudly, forgetting her own troubles momentarily. "Dammit, he was one of the best! How could he have been beaten to death?"

Alek finally shook himself out of his shock. "More to the point," he interjected, "is who could be that skilled? Even Mandalorians need at least a knife."

In the shadows, Valia cursed herself. She had been hoping Hokar wouldn't be found for at least a day. He had found out the truth-and had been dealt with.

Deciding the time had come, she dropped from the rafters, flinging shuriken at Alek as she landed. Alek sensed the deadly blades flying towards the back of his skull and barely had enough strength to nudge the projectiles out of harm's way with the Force.

"What the frack?!" Bandon cursed as all three beheld the sinister figure standing before them.

Her short, dark brown robes and slacks were covered with stitched emblems of scorpions, as were her white tabi boots. The frightful countenance of the mask was made all the more demonic by the lightning flashing outside. She looked both beautiful and barbaric, her hands made into a pincer shape.

Bandon's twin blades sprouted outward in an instant. He roared, lunging at her. She reacted in blazing fashion, evading his blades and launching a lightning-fast boot at his face. He toppled to the floor, spitting blood and a tooth out. But in less than a second he recovered, a fiery rage in his eyes as he drove his blue blade at Valia's chest. Valia, in turn, made a skillful vault over him, delivering her knee with full force into his spinal column. He cried out in agony as his back broke under the blow, falling to the floor again.

Valia then turned towards Alek, who already was guarding with his lightsaber. Revan, however, a stoic expression on her face, crossed her arms.

"Interesting. I was wondering when you would decide to act. You mask your signature in the Force well. Almost perfectly, in fact, but not well enough. I took the liberty of having reinforcements for just this occasion," she said without a hint of smugness.

At some invisible signal from Revan, a dozen Jedi she had personally trained streamed in through several entrances to surround Valia, who cocked her head quizzically to one side at Revan, who merely shrugged.

"Please don't try to resist. I'd rather you weren't injured. It would be a shame to see someone with your potential so pointlessly wasted."

Valia did not flinch, her voice calm and matter-of-fact through the vocal synthesizer in the mask. "Even if you should, by some miracle, slay me, four other deadly venoms still oppose you." she hissed.

Alek paled at her words. "The Five Venoms!?" He had heard of them, had even searched for some information on a whim in the Archives, but they were supposed to be just a rumor...

Revan turned to Alek and led him away as the dozen Jedi closed in on the motionless assassin. "We can discuss this after she is subdued, Alek."

Valia raised her hands and formed pincer shapes again...

Valia made note of her enemies. All of them were apparently Guardians. One was a female Twilek, the second was a male Togrutan, and the rest were human and male. She quickly noted the flaws in their stances.

The Twilek decided to make one last call for her surrender.

"Give up. Don't force us to kill you."

"I will spare you if you get out of my way," Valia growled. "My fight is with Revan."

"You'll be killing the only hope the Republic has!" the Togrutan Jedi spoke angrily.

"You can find another hope-one that involves going back to Dantooine. This war is not your fight. It never was. Put down your swords. Go back to your masters. Disobey the Council's orders no further," Valia replied, uncomfortably detecting traces of pleading in her tone.

"We will not drop our oath to defend the innocent from the Mandalorians!" the Togrutan Jedi vowed.

"This is your last warning. I have no wish to eliminate you, but you are leaving me no other choice," Valia said.

The Twilek readied her saber into a Djem So stance. "Then we will do what we must."

The Twilek thrust her blue blade at Valia. Valia Force leaped out of the way and back onto the rafters above. The Twilek Jedi followed suit and joined her, balancing eloquently as the rest waited below, eager for a chance to chop at Valia should she make a mistake. The Twilek made another stab, but Valia parried it with her gauntlets, quickly grabbing her opponent's sword hand and breaking it at the wrist. The Twilek barely had enough time to scream before a knife hand to her neck ended her.

"Talya! NOOO!" the Togrutan screamed, his bond with his padawan severed violently and leaving him in a sort of shock. It was a shock Valia took advantage of and, producing a heavy blaster pistol, silenced the Togrutan in mid air as he jumped towards her with a moan of anguish.

Valia then dropped below and took advantage of the growing panic among Revan's security detail now that their finest were dead. She evaded a human Jedi as he angrily made an overhead chop to her face and shattered his kneecap with her boot, rolling to his side in already cramped quarters and grabbing him by the neck, a shuriken at his throat.

The others backed off, thinking she was using him as a hostage. She instead shot him in the back and shoved him forward, ducking as three more swung madly, now clearly enraged. Valia swept one Jedi's legs out from under him, burying a shuriken into his neck, making him gag as he bled out. She Force pushed another Jedi into a computer console, making him jerk wildly as he was electrocuted.

The remaining ones rushed her, their sabers thrust forward, and Valia gathered energy into her...

Revan and Alek waited outside with their sabers ignited, the rain hissing as it made contact with them. Revan was growing more concerned by the moment as she felt the death cries of her security detail through the Force. Alek grimaced as he felt one of the Jedi being electrocuted. The thunderstorm raged outside, as if to parallel the chaos they felt from the command building.

It was Revan who broke the silence. "I've never felt such fear from you before, Alek. Who do you think she is?" She had been looking at him out of the corner of her eye. He was terrified.

Alek was shaken from the fear growing in his gut long enough to answer. "She claims to be one of the Five-" His words were cut off by a chorus of screams through the Force. He gripped his lightsaber in anticipation, but in the next moment an explosion rocked the whole building, taking off half the roof and blowing carnage and debris into the camp outside.

Thrown back by the force of the blast, Revan and Alek found themselves amidst the scattered bodies of the twelve Jedi, their bodies twisted into unnatural positions by the explosion.

At the center of the carnage stood Valia, unharmed.

Alek reactivated his lightsaber.

"Run, Revan!" he cried. "I'll try to hold her off! Go!"

"No, Alek, wait!" Revan yelled, but it was already too late. With the aid of the Force, Alek vaulted to his feat and leaped for the assassin.

Standing calm and cool, Valia gently lifted off the ground with the Force, bending her legs slightly in mid-air as Alek came flying at her. With incredible speed and force, Valia whipped her feet upwards, catching Alek underneath the jaw. He was catapulted backwards and fell heavily into the liquid mud beneath them.

Spitting mud, Alek picked himself up, his head feeling as though a tank droid had just stomped on it as Valia landed firmly on her feet. He cast a desperate look at Revan. "What are you waiting for?! Run!" he yelled at her. Twirling his lightsaber, he turned back to face the assassin.

Valia was gone, only a light wisp of smoke marking where she had been.

"What in the name of-?" Revan exclaimed, cut off in the middle of her sentence by the sudden reappearance of the assassin at her side, in the act of attempting to drive a shuriken into her skull, while also Force pushing Alek into the burning building.

Bending her body, Revan dodged and ignited her lightsaber in the same motion, just in time to face a deadly hail of the fiendishly sharp blades. The pink blade hummed as she twirled it this way and that, cutting down the deadly shuriken. Barely had she finished deflecting the blades when she was forced to leap out of the way of a howling red fireball the assassin sent her way.

Revan hit the mud as the roiling sphere of Force fire screamed past her, singeing her hair as it passed her. She scrambled out of the way of a blaster shot from the assassin, who then charged at her. Revan tried to swipe with her blade, but Valia twisted expertly to her left and threw a punch that sent her quarry to the ground. Revan spat blood and the world went slightly hazy. It was only instinct that saved Revan as she rolled away from a blaster shot from Valia.

Valia removed three shuriken as Revan staggered to her feet. Frustration poured from her quarry's eyes. Revan grimaced and her eye twitched.

A warning in the Force made Valia somersault over a treetrunk Revan had ripped from the ground. She tossed her shuriken as she landed.

Revan yelled as two of the three punctured her left shoulder and the third one hit her right kneecap. She fell to her one good knee as Valia drew her blaster, firing.

Revan barely managed to deflect with her saber, reflecting the shot at the head of the assassin, who dodged. Sobbing, she pulled the shuriken out of her knee and shoulder with the Force, and hurled them away as Valia gripped Revan with the Force and dragged her towards her through the mud, trying to drown her.

Another warning in the Force reached Valia, and she let go of Revan as Alek landed beside her, this time managing to swipe viciously with his lightsaber, finally wounding a surprised Valia as the lightsaber made a trench of a wound on her right arm. Valia clenched her arm, momentarily blinded by pain as Alek kicked her in the face, sending her into the mud herself. He helped Revan up, now covered in mud just as he was.

"You okay?" he asked.

"I'll survive." Revan spat, anger swelling in her. She was clearly not used to being off balance like this. "Alek we have to get out of-"

A roar from the assassin that made Revan's spine shiver cut her off. She quickly threw up a Force shield around her and Alek as the assassin raised her hands.

A massive Force wave, bigger than any Revan had ever seen, radiated out from the assassin's body, throwing the two Jedi a good thirty yards as everything within the radius of the blast was leveled by Valia's fury. The command building was finally reduced to rubble.

Back in the mud once again, Alek landed several yards away and Revan spat grass and insects from her mouth. She was flabbergasted by the enormous show of power from the assassin. She'd once thought only herself capable of such a display. A part of Revan admitted, however, that she was quite impressed. If only she could train just a dozen like the way her enemy had been trained-she could end the war tomorrow! Revan wondered what her top general, Valia Renn, might do in this situation. She then grimaced at the stupidity of the question as she lifted herself from the mud.

_Valia would would do what she is good at; She would defeat her opponent, _Revan thought. It was the one thing Valia had tried to stress to Revan as the war had dragged on.

_"Forget trying to follow rules of engagement. Forget your plans as battle comes. Empty your mind of strategy or plotting. Such things are for those who fancy themselves as strategic. When you give yourself entirely to defeating your opponent, it will not matter what plans he or she has arrayed against you. When a warrior's head is cut off during a fight, the body is still swinging the sword. Why? Because the warrior's heart knows better than its head. Were it not for the fact it loses blood soon, the body would continue the fight. Therefore, it is better to be like a headless body in a fight. Your arms will know when to swing. Your legs will know when to jump. All the plans in the galaxy mean nothing to a headless body. In other words, don't think. Do."_

Revan had never been able to accept that part of what Valia had tried to tell her. There would always be a need for her to think in a fight.

Guarding with her saber, Revan drew the Force into herself, regaining her strength as her body healed the wounds in her shoulder and knee quickly. She looked for a weakness in the assassin as she approached, noting the unfamiliar nature of the fighting style. Where had she learned it?

"You are strong, whoever you are," Revan spoke as Valia came within earshot. "You demonstrate much skill. Your talents are wasted, however."

"I would be making my peace with this life, were I you." Valia snorted, readying her hands into a pincer shape.

"Killing twelve of my best without a lightsaber is quite a feat. Tell me, was it the Mandalorians who hired you?"

The assassin didn't answer. Revan took a step back. "Someone of your talent does not belong doing the petty business of assassination. This is a work that droids should be doing, not a prodigy such as yourself."

"You think to try and turn me? I'll not be swayed. Shame yourself no further with these appeals of yours. You can have at least some dignity in death, can't you?" Valia asked.

"I'm just trying to save the Republic!" Revan yelled, pointing her lightsaber at her would-be killer.

"That is not my concern. Nor should it have been yours," the assassin scoffed. "No more appeals."

Valia advanced towards Revan, but was knocked backwards by a Force push from an enraged Alek, who had dragged himself up. A black fire was in his eyes as he Force leaped to the assassin, swiping almost at random, any thoughts of strategy or patience gone from him as he recklessly slashed at Valia.

"Alek!" Revan shouted. "You can't take her by yourself! She's too strong!" Revan rushed forward, trying to help and giving up on the thought she would be able to capture her attacker alive.

_Too bad, _she thought. _It really is a waste, even if she did kill twelve of my best._

Now both Alek and Revan attacked, trying to coordinate their attacks through their Force bond. Alek was aggressive, trying to use fast and powerful swings and drive Valia back as she blocked with her gauntlets while Revan tried to use mental attacks and throw her opponent's reflexes off, attacking in sweeping, efficient strokes with her blade.

It wasn't working. Valia fought like an animal in her mind to keep Revan out of it, and, displaying astounding speed and agility, she dodged both of their attacks expertly. On several attempts, she even managed to trick them into swiping at one another. Revan desperately tried to connect with her saber, only for it to meet air, rain, or mud.

Their combined assault was brought to an end suddenly as Valia unleashed a Force-enhanced kick at Revan who was sent tumbling into the mud a few yards away. Alek gave a roar, but that roar turned to screams of pain as he was hit by a bolt of lightning, making a barely conscious Revan spasm slightly as she felt Alek through their bond. She had no time to send comfort to him though, because another lethal hail of shuriken was sent flying her way. She desperately swiped with her saber, noticing that the blades were seemingly almost immune to any attempt to nudge them away with the Force.

The assassin's hands once again pulled into that deadly pincer shape. Revan had no doubt it was meant to be a killing blow. Revan coiled her body and leaped up and away out of the assassin's reach, holding her lightsaber out in a makashi salute to her opponent.

Unfazed, Valia pulled out her trump card, a small adegan crystal. It glowed brightly in reaction to Revan's presence.

It felt as though every inch of her skull was being violently stabbed and every nerve was being set on fire. Revan dropped her lightsaber, falling to her knees, and then finally to the ground, clutching her head and releasing a savage howl of agony. As she screamed, her lips parted to reveal two gleaming white fangs.

Calm, unhurried, Valia stepped closer, holding out the crystal before her. Revan tried to inch her body away but even that small effort was not in her power.

"This is the end, Nosferan," Valia hissed, pulling Revan's head towards her, when she was finally close enough. "Your danger to the Order ends today."

Sobbing against the brutal pain, Revan met the dark eye-holes in the assassin's mask. "The-the Jedi!? You-you LIE! It's impossible! Hiring assassins isn't the Jedi way!"

"Who said they hired me?" Valia asked. She produced another shuriken. "Die without hatred, Revan. This isn't personal."

As she was about to plunge the shuriken into Revan's neck, she was startled by a barbaric roar from her left. Alek charged like a bull, tackling her with Force-granted speed and his own broad shoulders, knocking her away from Revan's prostrate and helpless figure. The adegan crystal slipped from Valia's grasp, landing in the mud a few feet away from her-but still in the general vicinity of Revan, who continued to scream in pain. Alek and Valia grappled for a moment, trading blows, Alek's powerful fist slamming Valia's head into the dirt before she gave a snarl and kicked him off. Alek shot up again with renewed vigor, his lightsaber pointed at her.

"You will not kill her! Not while I'm here!" Alek bellowed. Valia rose up silently and gave only a rude hand gesture.

Both of them charged, each sensing this was the end for one of them.

The sound of Alek's blade whirring furiously through the torrential rain at lightning speed was the only thing heard. Yet no matter how fast he swung, how hard, or how many times he tried to stab, cut, or even nick her anywhere, his lightsaber met nothing as she dodged all of his attempts.

Alek was tired, battered and his strength was ebbing as fast as his logic was dissolved by the fires of his anger. Valia proceeded to cut mercilessly into the gaps of his technique. Evading his lightsaber one final time and leaping to his side before he could react, she produced a blaster and jammed it into the side of his head. Unfortunately for both of them, she slipped in the mud as she landed, causing her aim to veer slightly as she fired.

The blast took Alek's jaw clean off. He collapsed like a puppet into the mud, his strings finally cut, sobbing, gurgling noises coming from what remained of his mouth.

"ALEK!" Revan screamed as she saw him fall to the ground. The assassin scrambled out of the mud, marching toward Revan. Revan was so weakened by the merciless torture of the crystal that it was all she could do to keep conscious as the assassin approached.

A ghostly red sword appeared in Valia's hand.

"Revan is dead," Valia whispered, more to herself than Revan. "Long live Revan."

Revan could only hope for it to be quick. She closed her eyes, tears still falling. _Forgive me, Alek._

The blade came down.

Out of nowhere, an aqua green lightsaber blade blocked the killing blow. A figure stood over Revan, holding out the lightsaber over her prone body in protective fashion. "Get away from her!" the newcomer demanded. "Just who the hell do you think you are?"

Valia took a step back, appraising the scruffy looking fellow. He looked like he hadn't shaved in a week and his hair seemed to have seen far too few trims. It hung in places over his eyes while the rest of it was plastered to his head by the rain. Judging by his combat fatigues, it seemed as though he was just another soldier.

"Step aside, non-Jedi!" Valia hissed. "This doesn't concern you."

"You're about to kill the only hope the Republic has? You'd better damn well believe this concerns me!" he retorted, inverting his grip on the lightsaber, holding it with the blade pointing behind him.

Valia sighed, about to snap the meddler's neck, when she realized that his stance wasn't Jedi or even Sith; this man was no cast-off. He was in a league of his own. His stance was an ancient and dangerous style used by many independent Force users on the outer rim. Specifically, his stance belonged to a practitioner of Baiken family lightsaber combat.

"Hmm. A student of the rim ward provinces," she growled, pacing a bit before turning to him again. "Interesting."

The man raised a brow. "What are you talking about?"

Now it was her turn to question. "Are you telling me you didn't train in the outer rim? That is the only place you could have learned that style."

"It's my business where I trained, not yours!" he growled.

Committing herself, Valia readied her weapon. She was well aware of the threat a Baiken-style practitioner posed. Baiken is a fighting method similar but unrelated to the Jedi method of reversing the grip. Highly dangerous and said to contain mystical qualities to it, it is a powerful form even for non-Jedi. When used by a Force Sensitive, as her new enemy seemed to be, it made them a force to be reckoned with.

He leaped for her, displaying all the skill, agility, and ferocity of an advanced practitioner of Baiken combat. For the first time that night, Valia found herself totally on the defensive, desperately blocking and parrying with her gauntlets and shin guards. His fluid strikes, each always leading into the other, made it impossible for her to dodge as she had with the others. He was making her defend instead of evade, and it began to sap her strength. She knew she could not fight by his rules, or she would not walk away alive. Against his technique, her advantage over normal adversaries was practically nullified, and they both knew it. To make matters worse, he was taller than her, and had leverage, as well as familiarity with a lightsaber style that she herself had never successfully combated on her own.

He could very well beat her.

Valia flipped backward, unleashing a blast of Force lightning. The man ducked under her powerful burst, momentarily giving Valia both a reprieve and the advantage, which she exploited instantly. She jumped on top of him, attempting to drive her sword into him while he was still trying to get up. He rolled to the side and twisted to his feet, chopping at her legs.

She flipped in place, and attempted to drive her sword into him again. He parried and smacked her in the face with his elbow, full force. He then managed to kick her in the gut, blasting her with some lightning of his own, and finally hurling her with the Force into a nearby tree.

Frustrated, Valia roared and unleashed another burst of lightning, just as her mysterious fighter did so himself. Each set their will against the other, coming closer to one another. Her opponent gritted his teeth in pain as he sent more of his will into the lightning, even sending some of his own life to fuel it's power. The lightning hissed and crackled around them, lancing into grass, into trees, setting them ablaze as the two struggled for dominance.

Valia could fuel her lightning no longer. Her strength gave and she was blasted by the brilliant white torment and sent flying all the way back to where the fight had started. The man ran after her, anticipating victory.

Valia's mind raced furiously, assessing her options, as she lay face up in the mud, part of her mask destroyed, much of her clothing burnt.

She could not win. She knew it. Her opponent knew it. She was here to kill Revan for betraying the Order, not to get torn apart by a Baiken practitioner. Her mission was a failure. No point in staying. She pulled herself up from the mud as the man came closer. She gave a bow to him, and then tossed an explosive-tipped shuriken at the ground next to him. He Force leaped away from the blast, but upon landing, did not find Valia anywhere, a faint wisp of smoke curling upward in her place.

His heart pounding in apprehension, the Lieutenant searched the rain-streaked camp around him, searching for any sign of the assassin. After several minutes of nothing happening, he relaxed slightly, deactivating his wife's lightsaber and sticking it back into the hiding place of his sodden orange jacket. He quickly checked the two Jedi. His stomach lurched as he looked upon Alek's face. His wound was ghastly, horrific, but he would survive if he got help.

"I NEED A MEDIC! MAN DOWN!" he yelled at the top of his lungs, hoping his voice would carry despite the thunderstorm raging.

He barely recognized Revan as she lay twitching in the mud. He was so used to seeing her all prim and proper so noble looking, so..so beautiful that seeing her covered in that sticky mud was a shock. He spotted a tiny point of light a few feet from her pulsating in rhythm with each spasmodic jerk of her body.

He grabbed the glowing crystal from the mud and hurled it as far and as hard as he could from them.

Revan groaned, the first sound he heard from her and sending waves of relief into him; the war was still winnable. He dropped down beside her, not daring to move her. "Ma'am, are you alright? How badly are you hurt?" he asked. She mumbled something about an assassin in reply.

"The assassin's gone, Revan. She's not coming back. Something must have scared her off," he answered. The squish of rushing boots a few yards away alerted him to other Republic soldiers at last arriving at the scene of the massacre. Medics shoved him aside and quickly loaded Revan and Alek onto stretchers and hurriedly carried the two Jedi to the nearest medical tent. The Lieutenant caught up to them and and grasped Revan's hand, attempting to comfort her. There was no way he was leaving after what just happened. He leaned over her and looked into her dull ruby eyes. "I'm Lieutenant Carth Onasi, Ma'am. You're going to be fine."

Revan did not know how much time had passed when she woke, sitting up in a cot. She scanned her surroundings. She was still in the medical tent. That Lieutenant Onasi had fallen asleep in a chair to the right of her, a blaster in hand. She was dressed in a pale green medical gown. The stinking Dxun mud had been washed from her body and her wounds had kolto patches. She no longer felt searing pain in every nerve either.

The encounter had been a frightening reminder of the truth of what she had done. She had always known that there would be some Jedi who would cluck in disapproval. Now she knew how bitter her departure with the Order had actually been. It was shocking that the Order whose ideals she held could snap like this and send a killer after her. What had made it almost a success was that she had never imagined that they would be capable of it. She noticed someone in the cot on her left.

It was Alek. His face was in bandages, his breathing shallow.

Her heart broke when she saw his jaw had been torn off completely. He would never smile, would never share a glass of wine with her, would never kiss her ever again. The wound was too great, even for someone of her power to heal. She put her hand to her mouth, the tears falling again harder at the shock and horror of last night. She finally broke out with a moan of anguish.

"I'll make them pay for this Alek," she swore between sobs. "For their ignorance, for their hypocrisy, for their double speak, for the way they destroy people's lives, I WILL MAKE THEM PAY!" she roared, the volume of her voice as she made her oath making Carth jump awake.


	2. Valia Renn

Valia Renn shot up in the bed, her heart pounding. She was panting, covered in cold sweat from the intensity of her nightmare. It was always the same thing; the memory of her greatest sin. She took a few deep breaths and began to settle the vibro-jackhammer pace of her heart. Finally gaining control of herself, she stood up and grabbed a towel that sat on a nearby table, drying the sweat from her slightly bronzed, heavily scarred skin. Blinking her good right eye, the other covered by a ragged black patch, Valia ran her fingers over the many scars on her arms and neck almost ritualistically. The jagged scar on her neck was from the Serroco offensive. A jagged piece of shrapnel from a Mandalorian bomb had sliced her neck, missing the arteries, but damaging her larynx. Her voice had been hard and raspy ever since. Her eye wasn't an injury from the war. She had lost it long before.

Scars from every conceivable type of weapon ran across her body, but the majority of them by far were lightsabers. One had left an impressive trench wound on her left thigh, a wound that would never fully heal.

"Your thoughts disturb you. I sense tension."

Valia suppressed a sigh at hearing Kreia's voice. The old crone never seemed to shut up. The hag had probably been sitting on the floor, meditating, the whole time she had been having her nightmare.

"Bad dreams," Valia grunted.

"Ah, of course they were." Kreia's response was like the purr of a big cat. A diseased cat.

Valia searched for the light switch and hit it. Kreia was right where Valia thought she would be: the middle of the room, meditating. Atton's bed was located on the wall farthest from Kreia. He could not stand her any more than Valia could.

But it was empty. "Where is Atton?" Valia frowned.

"I suspect he has gone looking for a cantina," Kreia answered, not bothering to look up. "Apparently, being in close proximity to Jedi such as yourself makes him uncomfortable. I am unsure as to why, but I will know soon enough." There was a hint of malicious amusement in her tone.

"A drink, eh? I could probably use one myself."

Casting the towel aside, Valia's green eye scanned the clothing the TSF had laid out for her. Plain, unassuming, and slightly yellowed, they were perfect for the situation. Wearing clothing from the Peragus Mining Facility would have been just as conspicuous as wearing the robes of her old profession. Now was the worst time to be associated with either. She slid into her clothes quickly and slipped a few shuriken she had made from scrap metal on the _Hawk_ into her pocket.

"You coming?" Valia barked.

Kreia turned to her would-be student with a distasteful frown etched into her ancient visage. "If you will treat me with a little more respect than you have displayed thus far, than perhaps I will. I refuse to be treated so cynically by you. Remember, if not for me, you would never have made it off of Peragus. You would not have even stirred from your kolto tank if not for my influence."

Valia grunted ruefully. It was true what the old hag had said, not to mention a source of stinging humiliation at being outwitted by that damnable HK droid.

"Just shut up and come with me. I will not have you holding it over my head, you old hag."

"As well you should not," Kreia said approvingly, mildly impressed with her student's disposition. "Let us depart." Kreia rose silently and followed her out the door.

The pair patiently weeded their way through the ever bustling crowds of Citadel Station. The throng of crowds made it difficult to remain in contact but they managed. As they neared the flashing signs-which displayed everything from hair-care products to the brazenly bared frame of a dancer over an often-frequented cantina, the old hag felt the need to engage her protege in conversation again.

"Exile," she began, enunciating the word like it was an insult, "If you and I are to work together, it might be prudent for each of us to know something of the other."

"No," Valia snorted derisively. "We don't need to know anything about one another. I don't really care where you came from. Besides, what would me telling you anything about myself change? At the end of that story-and it is a long one-I'd still be able to kick your ass from here to Corellia." Her words were born from a need to be pragmatic. The vicious old lady already knew too much for comfort.

"The word 'friends' may not describe our relationship, Exile, but we will have to be civil to one another if we are to accomplish our mission."

"Civil. Yeah. Sure. You can be civil with me, but not Atton?"

"I will only show as much civility to that fool as he so deserves," Kreia snapped. "Fools, aside, I want to encourage cooperation between us."

A flash of irritation pierced Valia's mask of indifference. "And why should I cooperate with you? You're a vicious old scow, just like Atton said."

"I am a clever one. You would do well to remember that," Kreia hissed like a snake. "Remember, I was the one who kept you out of Sion's hands."

"You threw yourself at a corpse. I hardly call that being clever. And I did not need your protection. I could have killed him."

"Cling to your paltry fantasy if you want, but I will not ignore reality when it comes to you. In your condition-stripped of the Force, nearly five years out of practice, you would have been no match for Sion, and he would have you now."

"I'm one year out of practice, Kreia."

For the first time since encountering the old bat, Valia saw Kreia taken by surprise, grasping for elusive answers.

"And what," Kreia asked, testing the waters, "do you mean by that?"

"Never mind," Valia growled. She had said too much as it was.

"Very well, Exile," Kreia hissed in annoyance. "We shall play your game for a little while longer. But," she added as her voice took on a menacing chill. "I will not be patient forever. If you do not allow me to help you recover the power the council stripped from you-"

"Even if they had, I would not care. I deserve far worse."

Once more, Kreia was taken by surprise as they walked into the entertainment module shuttle.

Valia's keen eye and sharp hearing soon detected a commotion outside the Cantina. As so many of their kind were prone to do, a trio of mercenaries were harassing a bystander. A Sullustan, in this case.

"My friend here took offense to what you did back at the bar," said the sneering voice of the ringleader of the three humans, intimidating him with a flagrant show of his weapons over a light combat suit.

_"I meant no offense," _the Sullustan pleaded. _"It was an accident!"_

"Well so is what's gonna happen to you!" The ringleader snarled, drawing his weapon.

Valia snorted in disgust. She had seen this situation play out enough times to know when mercenaries were simply harming people for fun.

The man was just about to fire when he felt a clutching at his throat. Valia's hand was gripping nothing in the air.

"I find your lack of manners...disturbing," she growled, choking him unconscious.

The other two mercenaries drew their blasters, but Valia unleashed a lightning fast flying kick to one, completely breaking his jaw on impact, and neatly tripping the other, snatching his blaster from him while he was falling and stomping the groin of the other merc whose face was now ruined.

Contemptuously, she tossed the blasters at the ringleader, who was still out cold. The others picked up their fallen comrade and left as quickly as possible, moaning in pain the whole time. Valia wasn't even breathing hard.

Looking on in astonishment, the Sullustan thanked her profusely and placed a number of credit chips gently in her hand. She acknowledged him with an unfeeling nod of her head and turned to Kreia as the Sullustan ran off.

"At least we can pay for our drinks," Valia said with a sardonic grin.

"Lovely," Kreia scoffed. "And for her next trick, the Exile will actually think to say something worth listening to."

"Shut up, Kreia."

"Do something smart and I will."

The unsurprising sight of Atton being forcibly restrained by TSF guards annoyed Valia to no end as he struggled in his stupor. He had probably had spent the whole night drinking and based on his even more disheveled appearance, that probably was no too far from reality.

"C'mon! One more drink!" he said with a drunken slur to the guard as he was being cuffed.

"What's wrong?" Valia rasped.

The guards grimaced. "We got a page. Dancers complaining he kept grabbing their butts, or something like that."

"Leech," Kreia spoke. "Well, have fun with him."

"Hey!" Atton yelled as the guards began dragging him off.

"No. You will leave him to me," Valia said with a wave of her hand.

"We will...leave him to you," The guards said, under Force persuasion, uncuffing him.

"You will leave and report a false alarm," Valia instructed.

The guards repeated the command mindlessly and left.

"Hey, uh, thanks," Atton slurred.

"Just sit down," Valia snapped as she dragged him to a table far away from the dance platform, with his back to it so he would not be distracted, passing a wave of Force clarity onto him with considerable effort. It was frustrating every time she had to call on the Force for something like this, partly because she had not used it for so long and also because she had always been very poor at using the Force for curative effects.

"You should lay off the drinks," Valia rasped to him, slightly amused by his drunkenness, but not enough to show it. "You do remember that Chodo Habat asked us to come in this morning?"

"It was just a few drinks," Atton protested.

Disgust overtaking her, Valia snagged a passing waitress and requested a tall glass of water for both of them, again passing another wave of Force clarity over him as he took a sip. Valia noticed Kreia as she sat back down, sporting a tall frosted glass of what looked for all the world like Coruscanti Ice Whiskey. Valia eyed the sightless crone as she sipped quietly, raising her eye brows in curiosity at the old woman's taste.

"What did he want?" Atton asked, dizzy.

"Something about trouble with the Czerka Corporation," Valia said. "I don't care much for corporations myself, so I'm going over there to see what kind of trouble Chodo seems to be in. If I know Czerka...it is a lot."

"Well, nothing to worry about, right? You're the ex-Jedi from hell," Atton replied, taking another gulp. "You know, I've been wondering 'bout sumthin'."

"Over?"

"Well I, uh," Atton began, stumbling in the conversation already. "I never met a Jedi who did so much kicking and knifing people before."

"Yes, I must confess to being curious about this as well," Kreia added after a sip. "You are...disturbingly proficient with your legs. Where did you learn those techniques?"

"From someone who minded their own damn business," Valia sneered. "We're done here." She got up, stretching and headed for the exit.

"Frustrating will she be to teach. She carries much anger in her," Kreia said to herself.

"Frak, she's no Jedi. I can tell you that much. Hell, she ain't Sith either."

"The source of your knowledge is quickly becoming an interesting topic," Kreia said with a malicious smile. "Tell me, if she is neither, than what is she?"

"Well," Atton began with a burp, "I'm not, uh, any great authority on the subject, but you Jedi would be surprised at how many Force Sensitives don't stick to either of the 'Big Two'. Some of these groups are said to be larger than the Jedi Order."

"I find such a notion exceedingly difficult to believe."

"That's the idea."

Coruscant, sector J7( Formerly Jedi Sector)

Bastila tossed and turned on the filthy rags she had acquired living on the street. She couldn't get comfortable on the damn things! Not with the cold, or the granite slugs nipping at her.

Or the damned voice in her head. Besides, even if she could sleep, she doubted she would have pleasant dreams anyway. She had evaded Carth Onasi's Republic Search and Destroy teams, but she could not stay lucky forever. Sooner or later, he would find her, and they would finish what he had started on Lehon. The rest of the Ebon Hawk crew had scattered, barely escaping with their lives as Carth and Forn had attacked Revan with a whole contingent of Republic troops. Most had gotten away, except for Revan, who had been last seen fighting a lightsaber wielding Carth, and losing badly as she shouted for everyone to run.

Many of the crew had not trusted her, Juhani accusing her of being in on the plot. And she had been, in a way. But she had also had no idea that this was how Revan's mission had been supposed to end! She had not known that Carth was a Force user, certainly not known he was capable of fighting Revan on equal terms with that bizarre lightsaber style he favored.

Not for the first time, Bastila wondered if he had managed to kill her. She hated to admit it, but her death would free her of this perverse bond she had to a piece of Revan's soul, a piece that would not shut up.

_"Can't sleep either, eh?" _the young, seductive voice cooed in her head, as real as the feeling of the freezing wind on her skin.

"Why do you insist on bothering me?"

_"Why do you insist on not acknowledging our friendship?"_

"You are not real. You are merely a piece of her mind, not a person. You are little better than a hallucination."

_"Why are you arguing with me then? Arguing with a figment of your imagination is a classic sign of a delusional mind."_

"I argue with you because you insist on talking to me!"

_"You're lonely. Admit it. Not so easy being hunted and hounded, isn't it?"_

"I would find a way out of this mess if I did not constantly have to argue with you!"

_"Aww. Poor baby. I am merely offering constructive criticism. You really are not that much of a planner. Unless you can use your fancy Battle Meditation on an army or whatever. When are you going to pull yourself out of this hovel and start tracking the other member's of the Hawk down? I miss Mission. And Jolee. Especially Jolee."_

"No, it is too dangerous!" Bastila replied angrily, her face scrunching like a kath pup. She stood up in the dirty alleyway she had been living in at the very bottom of Coruscant. "Even if we did find them, I doubt they would let me help them."

_"They would let ME help, however. C'mon, how about letting me have a go in your body, for old times' sake? Just let me hack a terminal and start sending out coded calls? I know for certain Canderous is on Dxun. He has resources we don't."_

"We don't even know where the real you is!"

_"Never stopped us before."_

"No, you...whatever you are. I am not letting you take over my body. Not again. I don't like being you."

_"You mean you don't like the fact that you like being me. I know you get a thrill out of it."_

"My answer is no."

"Hey, you crazy schutta! Stop frakking talking to that voice in your head! The rest of us need to sleep!" yelled a homeless Bith about ten feet down.

"Oh, uh, sorry!" she called back. She left the alleyway, putting on her filthy red jacket and torn pants and shoes, and began walking.

_"Why are you always so angry?"_

"Because you never leave me alone! Even when we were kids I always had to give leeway to you!"

_"Is that what this is all about? As I recall, I was very nice to you. It's not my fault we are bonded like this. Remember, YOU were the one who-"_

"Don't remind me," Bastila said with gritted teeth, her mind drifting back anyway to that day...

The Hand of Dark, Revan's flagship, six years ago.

The Republic Heavy Insertion shuttle crash-landed onto the hanger deck, a force field turning on to prevent the air from escaping any more on the already blasted floor. Padawan Bastila did her best to refrain from cursing but given the fact that the operation wasn't even a minute underway and already five of the fifteen soldier group was dead with two of the six Jedi injured, it was rather difficult. It was a mistake to bring the soldiers: This should have been strictly a Jedi affair from the beginning. But now since the Republic had provided the shuttles and the men, they would want a say in what would happen in the aftermath of the success-if it was a success.

She gripped her lightsaber tightly, feeling the anxiety build up.

_There is no emotion... _she told herself, repeating the mantra. She looked at the Jedi team. Knight's Arwyn and Medla, Rodians, were nursing their wounds. A dislocated shoulder for Arwyn and second degree burns for Medla. The others were master's Quatra, a female Zabrak, with a dark skin tone and white tattoos, lining her face. She checked her lightsaber, centering herself for battle. Master Bron-Son Kenobi smoothed over his bowl shaped hair cut and plucked at his mustache a bit as he stood up. Kenobi, unlike many other Jedi, preferred blasters, something many Jedi disapproved of and some believed the fallen Jedi Valia Renn had taken her cue from. His twin blasters were short and snub nosed, their barrels little more than two and a half inches in length. But Bastila had seen those weapons put a hole in a starship hull once after three shots. They were prototypes, obtained from the failed Kersey Division of the BlasTech corporation, or so she had heard.

The last Master was certainly not from the Core Worlds. Indeed, he seemed highly unusual. Master Dimmak was covered entirely in brown and white bandages from the torso up, his lower half covered in traditional Jedi wear, two glowing blue orbs for eyes. His conical shaped straw hat looked battered by many years of wear and tear. He spun his lightsabers-trophies he had kept from Dark Jedi-in his hands in a rhythmic motion.

Bastila dusted herself off, coughing from the smoke as Carth Onasi, the pilot, helped her up.

"You ready to put an end to this?" he asked, drawing his blaster.

"Yes. We should-"

The rocket attack put a dent in the shuttle, rocking them back as the Sith started firing. Dimmak did not need any instruction. He flipped out of the shuttle entrance and began deflecting shots.

Bastila activated her single blade lightsaber, her stomach getting increasingly queasy at the thought of her mission.

Capture Revan. Or kill her if capture was impossible. How was she supposed to do that?!

Vrook had staunchly opposed sending Bastila to do this, but, unlike other times, he had a legitimate reason. The two were closely connected. Revan would surely try to turn her to the dark side. If Revan got ahold of Bastila's Battle Meditation, the Sith would be invincible. But Bastila was the only one with enough power to oppose Revan at the moment. Her Battle Meditation could be used in battle against the Dark Lord.

Bastila did have to second guess herself on that. She had not acquired the power by natural means. Yes, she was strong, but Revan was more skilled. It had always been that way with the two on Dantooine, Bastila spending time with her because Revan knew a lot more about the Force. The two had been friendly, but it was more like the friendliness between classmates. You see one another every day, and then forget about one another every night.

Bastila had always struggled with the Force. She was constantly told she had great power but little focus. And Revan, no matter what Bastila tried, always managed to upstage her meager accomplishments. That was what had spurned her to seek out...methods. A perfectly innocent notion, but one that had accidentally ended up giving her Battle Meditation. Her newfound importance to the Jedi had come at a price, however.

The headaches, for one. There was also the voices of the people who were dying as she influenced them in combat. If she used it too long, she risked being violently sick afterward. Revan had been pushing her to her limits. The last battle at Morenva had nearly stopped her heart. If she did not end this today, Revan's increasingly complex strategy would end up killing her.

But.. this might very well have been the Dark Lords intention the whole time. To draw her here out of desperation. If that was the case, the set up was perfect. Darth Revan would just HAPPEN to be in this sector, right within striking distance of the Republic Naval Task Force.

Bastila snorted a bit as she realized how badly Revan had tricked her. But there was nothing she could do now, and as her old, degenerate Master Kreia had once told her unwilling ears, "Traps work both ways."

The voices of the people who had died just recently began starting up in her head. Bastila forced them back down with the mantra of the Jedi code. She could deal with them later, when she was alone. They were wisps of her connection to them, but they were not souls in of themselves.

Dimmak and Kenobi were decimating the welcoming party. Dimmak's style was strange, while Kenobi's was just blunt. Kenobi shot people in the head, very quickly. Dimmak was the one who had to be watched. He was ultra flexible, his body contorting in all manner of odd positions to evade blows, like he had no bones or joints as he carved through the Sith troopers and Dark Jedi. Bastila wondered if it was a Force related ability.

One Dark Jedi managed to get lucky and shove a lightsaber into Dimmak's torso. Bastila winced, as she parried a blow from another, eventually beheading her poorly skilled opponent. She turned, rushing to see if Dimmak needed help.

Apparently not. Dimmak's bandaged body was seemingly sucking both the lightsaber and his opponents arm in, the bandages shooting out of their own accord and dragging the screaming Dark Jedi into the shadows underneath his wrapped torso, where he disappeared completely.

"Padawan! Focus!" Quatra instructed. "Master Dimmak can take care of himself."

"But...did you...see..."

"I did. That was why I sought him out for this mission," Quatra explained, not even really looking as she speared a Dark Jedi through the head with her indigo blade.

"I...understand Master Quatra," Bastila replied, staring at Master Dimmak with apprehension.

How had he become a Jedi master? Surely his power must stem from dark teachings! How could the Council authorize him to be here?

Bastila quickly corrected herself. It was not her place to question the will of the Council. Her role was to obey, as she had wisely done for the Council when Revan had practically begged her to become her apprentice when she went off to fight in the ill-advised Mandalorian wars, and when she had testified against her corrupt new Master Kreia.

Bastila breathed and opened herself to her ill-gotten Battle Meditation, strengthening the will of her companions while sapping the will of her enemies.

The Council's will would be done.

"I don't trust the situation," Carth Onasi said to Bastila as he downed a pair of Sith with remarkably well aimed blaster bolts. "I mean, we should be facing far stiffer resistance than this, sister. This isn't even a quarter of what Revan could throw at us."

"She isn't trying to kill us, Captain Onasi. She is trying to capture us. Wear us down until we're exhausted. That's her way. She almost never kills unless she absolutely must. She'll want information," Master Kenobi said with a clipped Coruscanti accent as he led point.

"I agree. She will especially want me," Bastila replied as she held her lightsaber in a constant guard as she advanced. A Sith apprentice would occasionally appear from one or the other passages in this maze of corridors they were advancing through. And then the Sith would be cut down by a blaster bolt or Quatra's Shien bladework or torso-consumed by Dimmak. Carth was disturbingly accurate and almost never missed a blasterbolt shot when he aimed. Bastila wondered if perhaps he was Force sensitive as she cut through a pair of Sith Assassin's.

When they reached the corridor to the bridge, that was when Bastila began to feel Revan's presence. It was dark, and seethed like a hurricane of shadow, and yet, at the same time, almost welcoming.

"The moment of truth, young Padawan," Quatra encouraged. "It is up to you. We will help if we can but only you can oppose the Dark Lord now. We will defend the entryway to the bridge from reinforcements."

Kenobi snorted. "Bad idea, putting the young pup through this. I'm telling you, she isn't ready."

"Bron-Son, don't undermine her confidence," Quatra replied hastily. Dimmak made a hollow noise that sounded like a sigh.

Bastila stepped through the bridge and Darth Revan was waiting arms folded. Her lightsaber was not even off the belt.

Bastila grimaced at the dark, menacing crimson mask that she wore. She activated her lightsaber.

"It ends here you murderer."

"Oh, no hello? No asking what I've been up to for the past four years?" Revan chuckled. "It has been a long time, Bassie. You've grown. I bet you make all the other girls jealous."

"Flattery will not save you, Revan! Only by surrendering to the will of the Council will you be shown mercy. If not, I'm afraid I will have no choice but to destroy you."

"You sound like a recording of Vrook. Got his claws into you too, didn't he?"

"Vrook showed me the truth!"

"He frightened you into doing his dirty work, you mean."

"Enough of this! Come with me quietly and I will not kill you."

"Like that line would actually work. I've seen the Jedi for what they are: Dogmatic weaklings not suited to protecting the Galaxy anymore. They failed me during the Mandalorian Wars, and they tried to kill my family. Did you know I had to send my son away from me so they would not find him?"

"I will not listen to your lies about the Masters!" Bastila shouted. Losing patience, she charged.

Revan easily side-stepped her, flying out of her reach with Force levitation.

"Temper temper, Bassie!" Revan laughed. "They must have been getting desperate, sending you out here to kill little old me. I'm touched, really."

Bastila took a swipe at Revan, but one of her gauntleted arms deflected the blow, punching her.

Bastila flew into a console, hearing something pop in her back as she spat blood.

"You know, you were always like a little sister to me, Bassie. Besides Vandar or Vash, you might be the only one left in the Order I would mourn, were you to die here," Revan spoke candidly as she watched Bastila get up.

"They haven't even knighted you, for Force's sake! How much studying did you do? How many dozens of hours did you put into your efforts to become a knight? And they still won't acknowledge it? You're twenty, for crying out loud! Most get it at seventeen!"

"I will be knighted when they choose to do so," Bastila said, wiping blood from her mouth.

"They will never choose that. You are tainted by me, in their view. They will never trust you to carry your own two feet. They will always hold you back, just like they would hold anyone back who attempts to put their own meaning to the Force. They'll keep you locked up, like a bird in a cage, constantly telling you to sing so they can feed you a treat. I tell you now, Bastila, they will never trust you."

"Stop lying to me," Bastila calmly said, making a precise lunge for Revan's midsection. She succeeded, and her heart leaped for relief as she felt the blade push into Revan's flesh.

The nightmare was over.

At least, until Revan laughed a bit more and slid her body further down the lightsaber blade.

"I have become," Revan said with a cross between anger and amusement as she back handed Bastila and shut off the still active blade, toying with the hilt before casually tossing it back to Bastila. "more powerful than any Jedi."

Naked horror danced across Bastila's face as she gripped her reactivated blade. How was she supposed to kill her?

"The Jedi will never respect you. But I will. Why don't you become my apprentice? Malak has become a brute. His bloodlust barely contained by my will. He does not care for preserving the Galaxy. Not like I do."

"You care only about destruction. Destruction of the Republic, of the Jedi, of freedom!"

"Silly girl. Have I just wiped a whole planet off the map just for the hell of it? Lay that one on Malak, not I. And it's not like I like killing Jedi either. I just...open their eyes."

"You torture and murder us! What gives you the right to judge us? To judge our way?! What is it about serving the Light that makes everyone hate us so much?!" Bastila shouted in frustration, angling her blade for Revan's chest once more. She didn't care if she got it taken away from her again, for some reason. She just wanted Revan to shut up and stop her constant condemnations!

"Because," Revan replied as though it should be obvious. "You saw fit to judge me. You all saw fit. The reason people hate Jedi so much is because you like to act like you're so above the rest of us. Bassie, I hate to say it, but you're representative of what plagues the Order's internal affairs. It's all about politics. Always about codes or rules. That's why the common people hate you, that's why other Force Sensitives, even the ones purportedly following the light side of the Force, hate you guys. I'm doing the galaxy a favor."

Bastila yelled and made a flurry of angry swipes at the Dark Lord, who easily parried with her now active maroon blade.

"That's it, Bassie, let it out. Let it all out! VENT!" Revan encouraged. "Embrace your emotions! Don't let them dehumanize you anymore!" Revan drove her back.

"Good, young Bastila. you have taken the first steps. I can feel the hate flow through you! But you must channel it. Give in to your anger."

"I...will...DESTROY YOU!" Bastila yelled again.

"Not today, Bassie," Revan retorted, giving a swish of her lightsaber. "Not unless you use my knowledge you won't. You're very new to this, but I promise, in the end, you'll thank me. You will call me sister."

"Never!" Bastila charged again, but Revan's Makashi was too good. Bastila made desperate swipes over and over, her frustration building as Revan laughed playfully, reaching through her guard occasionally and slapping her across the face gently, like she was telling a pet not to pee on a rug.

In the midst of this heated combat, Bastila heard a voice in her head. It was Kenobi.

_"Don't give in to hate. That leads to the Dark Side. Revan is playing you like a Bith guitar. Shut her out. Calm yourself, young one."_

_"Yes, to Kenobi you must listen!" _Vandar's voice added, adding his strength to her from across the galaxy. "_Save you it can, what you have learned."_

_"I...I will try, Masters." _Bastila replied, calming herself.

_"There is no try. Only do, you must."_

Bastila forced calm on herself, and when Revan aimed a strike meant to cut her lightsaber in two, Bastila made an unexpected parry, back fisting Revan away from her with added Force strength.

Revan leapt back up, surprised. "Hmmm...you have more promise than I thought. All the better if you are to be my new apprentice."

"I will not turn," Bastila said, her serenity returning. She forced more clarity onto herself and her signature in the Force was once again a serene little lake.

"It will take me a while, sure. But I'll make you see the truth, in the end, my future sister."

"Are you going to talk? Because really, this is growing boring," Bastila replied with a gentle smile. She knew Revan's game. She knew she liked to talk it out. Thank the Force the Master's had shown her this, in time.

Revan swiped, expecting to batter her guard down, only for Bastila's parry to surprise her and come within inches of beheading her, had Revan not ducked.

"So you can survive a lightsaber blow to the chest. It's not very impressive, when you think about it. All it does is make you little more than an interesting entry in the Jedi archives. Like an interesting subspecies of dung beetle or some other creature. You're just an anomaly in the end."

Revan smiled under her mask. "Aww, you hurt my feelings-"

Revan blocked the powerful blow from Bastila's blade. It had made her knees buckle.

Revan cursed herself for not realizing Bastila had turned her own ploy against her.

Yes, Bassie would indeed make a fine little spitfire of an apprentice.

But, for now, at least, the time to play was over.

Revan began making a series of ruthless strikes. Bastila parried with her Soresu, not even backing off as Revan made strike after strike, her saber hissing and spitting with maroon colored anger as Bastila's sunfire blade met it everywhere.

"You cannot win, you know. You may be able to survive impalement. You may even survive a decapitation if what I sense through the Force is true, but I doubt you'll function if your two lengthwise halves aren't in proximity," Bastila said as she made the disgusting realization. "Surrender, Revan. This has gone on long enough."

"I would rather die."

"So be it."

Just then, the Force whispered a warning to both of them. A missile with a special payload had just been launched from Malak's ship. Bastila sensed that Captain Onasi had fought his way to the shield grid and destroyed it, leaving Revan's ship defenseless.

"Damn that brute!" Revan exclaimed, exasperated. She could not allow promising young Bastila to die like this. Without thinking, Revan used all her strength and tossed Bastila from the bridge as the missile hit, bathing Revan in agony as she blacked out.

Bastila regained consciousness. The masters had caught her with the Force. All the troops save Carth were dead from defending the entry to the bridge from the Dark Jedi that had been swarming the pathway as she had been dueling Revan. Masters Kenobi and Dimmak were the only ones who did not look exhausted or injured from the fighting. And when she looked into the now smoking bridge, she saw Revan's ruined body bathed in what appeared to be...lightsaber crystals stuck in her.

Knowing somehow her quarry was still alive, Bastila set her will without thinking on the near dead Dark Lord as she picked her up yelling for everyone to run.

Present day.

That had been when things had really gone violently off the tracks, Bastila thought with a grimace. In silence she continued walking as the Revan in her began humming and old Bith tune. It was a tune Bastila had heard too many times.

"Do you think you could hum something else? You always pick that tune," Bastila grumbled.


	3. Ghosts of Atton

Telos, Citadel Station.

Atton had quickly decided after getting onto the shuttle that hitting on the Exile, despite her generous bust line, was definitely NOT a way to stay amused. The Exile was probably the deadliest woman he had ever met, and he had served under Revan. No sooner had he attempted to come onto her than she had pulled a strange technique, tapping his larynx with two fingers-rendering him mute. It hadn't hurt, but it was getting worrisome not being able to use his vocal cords.

_If there had been more Jedi like her around, the Mandalorian Wars would have been either shorter or even more brutal, _he thought to himself. _If there had been more Jedi like her, I'd be dead. They's have probably skinned me and my buddies alive._

Atton quickly shook himself from his observation however. He used his eyes desperately to plead with her unsympathetic face. After a moment, she sighed. "No more coming on to me," she instructed.

Atton nodded quickly. The Exile reached out and tapped his larynx. "Dammit, why'd you have to take my voice away?!" he yelped.

"Because I don't like you, Atton. At all. You are a weasel. You are uncouth. I would sooner trust a Hutt than you."

"Why, you little-You wouldn't have gotten off the Administration Level of Peragus if it hadn't been for me!"

The Sith would have come through the airlock still, you damn fool!" the Exile growled.

Atton grimaced. After all his sticking his neck out for her this was how he was getting treated? Maybe he should be thinking about spacing the two.

But...no. He still had a debt to pay. And if riding it out with this strange killer paid it, then ride he would.

_Maybe the nightmares will stop. Maybe I'll stop seeing them out of the corner of my eyes, _he thought to himself.

Then he let out a sigh. That was too much to hope for. Way too much. He would see them until he died, all the Jedi he had killed or tortured into switching sides. Hell, he knew for a fact that some of them were still very much alive and yet he was STILL seeing them. They always urged him on, whispered that he wasn't done yet. Whenever he got close to death, they would drag him back up from sweet oblivion, no matter what state his body was in, and order him to go on. And despite all his exhaustion, despite his want of death when it knocked at his door, he would always obey.

Atton was a man without a future other than to obey. He had obeyed General Derred. He had obeyed Yusanis. He had obeyed Revan. And now he obeyed ghosts.

"That's the smartest thing I've heard you say all day, Exile," Kreia added.

"I don't like you either, Kreia. The first time you start acting funny is also the first time I stomp you into the pavement."

Atton perked up. Their banter always amused him. At least the Exile wasn't one who would simply lie down and take it. With a bit of revulsion towards himself he hid beneath a mask of apathy, he wondered if he could have broken her on the torture rack.

No-she would never break, never succumb. She had been broken way too many times for someone like him to try. Surprisingly, he found himself respecting her for it, for her primal nature. He respected the fact that she didn't bother to play the goody goody Jedi he had grown to despise from Coruscant. She was a killer and she made no pretense of hiding it. He wondered what detachment she had led, how many battles she had seen. From the looks of it, that lightsaber scar she was hiding under her eye patch had to be at least twenty one years old, meaning she had seen some scraps and lived.

Hell, they were both similar, in that regard.

The shuttle docked to the residential module and the trio stepped off, walking to the Ithorian compound. The Ithorian Secretary eyed the seedy bunch that stepped through the door. "Chodo Habat sent for us," the Exile grunted.

"You must be the Jedi he sent for! This way, please." The Secretary unlocked the doors behind his terminal.

The compound was filled with lush, green plants and for just a moment, Atton saw the Exile's muscles relax.

_She enjoys places like this, eh? _

"Ah, your mind is at ease here," Kreia noted.

And just like that, Atton saw that cold armor snap over her relaxed expression. "Do not peer into my mind again. You may find something you won't like."

"I meant no offense, Exile. It was merely the first time I've felt no turmoil from within you. You have a rapport with Ithorians. May I ask why?"

"No. Do not ask again."

Atton sighed. Seeing her looking at peace had been...interesting. He himself disliked the Ithorians for their pacifism. He found them too similar to Jedi in that regard. Though his rational mind told him that they were a herd species and by nature-not choice-were prone to running when threatened, part of him would never forgive the fact they had shirked helping the Republic with their biomedical tech during the wars.

That was the thing that had initially attracted him to the Sith. They didn't make any pretense about trying to be honest and just in a world that was neither. They wanted order and were willing to do whatever it took to get it, to get what was owed to them. Not like the Republic, with their stagnant laws and their ingrained policies of corruption, where some worlds got all the wealth, all the prestige, while others got nothing. Darth Revan had promised to end it, to end the Republic and the stodgy, arrogant Jedi that misguidedly supported it. Part of the reason that Revan gained so many systems without even attacking when she first invaded was because there was already strong anti-Republic sentiment on the rim. Worlds that had always gotten the short end of the stick due to either corrupt trade agreements, discrimination, or had been denied aid by the Republic when the Mandalorians had attacked their planets. Revan's promise of revenge, of finally making the damn Senators listen and do their damned job once she took over had been too good to pass up for many of these worlds. Revan had even, in her boldness, extended a hand of friendship to the Force using groups of the rim, both light and dark-though it was all just meaningless religion to people like Atton.

It was completely unexpected when the killing started. The assassination attempts. Force groups from both sides on the rim had banded together, like the Jal Shey and the Dark Mercenary Corps, unwilling to live under the rule of a Sith, and had carried out a systematic campaign of murder against Sith governors and Lords. Many had been found shot up, exploded in speeders, strangled, throats slit, all the nasty ones. Bounties had been offered up for Jedi Hunters like himself by these groups. Revan and Malak had survived at least fifty attempts from snipers. It had gotten so bad that Revan had not been willing to risk giving speeches in public anymore, instead focusing all her efforts at rooting out this resistance...and failing miserably.

"I will not be patient with you evasiveness forever," Kreia admonished. Atton almost groaned. He understood something the old hag didn't. The Exile was not one who could be manipulated. She was too clever. Atton did have to wonder how it was the old woman could not understand something like that. He would never admit it, but he felt Kreia was dangerously intelligent, and could easily find her way out of most types of trouble, given what he had seen.

Maybe she, like he himself had once done, liked to prejudge everybody.

"I am glad you answered my request. It is good to have help, at last," Chodo Habat said, bidding them in as they strode into his chambers.

"I am honored to be in your midst," the Exile bowed. Atton struggled not to sigh. Why couldn't she be that polite with him?

"What can I do for you?" she asked.

"I am hoping the Jedi could provide protection. Have you heard of the Telos Restoration Project?"

"I believe we are standing on it."

"Then perhaps you are aware of our problems with Czerka Corporation..."

The Ithorian explained it all, from Czerka's initial bullying of both them and the Government and suspected sabotage of their last droid intelligence to the present situation escorting their new droid intelligence. "I understand, Chodo, but be forewarned: If Czerka is really intent on sabotage the situation will likely end in blood. I make no promises. Now do you still want to accept my help?" the Exile inquired.

Chodo thought a moment. "It is a risk I have no choice but to accept. The Restoration of life to the planet is bigger than any of us."

Atton snorted. He was almost tempted to call the Ithorians out for not being able to do their own dirty work. But one deadly glint from the Exile's eye had shut him up.

Besides, at least the Ithorians had their priorities straight.

"As you wish," the Exile again bowed and signaled the others it was time to leave. Atton barely heard Chodo's assistant, Johlan, speak up as they left.

"Forgive me, Chodo, but I can't help but feel as though we have started a forest fire."

"I felt as you do, Johlan, but I am afraid that just this once, it is better to burn a part of the forest in order to save the rest of it."

"I felt incredible pain rolling off her. It is like she has a planet's worth of it. For just a second I heard screaming-but the scream was like a whisper," his assistant finished. "How does she tolerate it?"

"It is because she has no choice."

"Perhaps in helping to heal a planet, she herself will be made whole again."

"I hope. But I am not naive. I know I am playing with fire. I pray the fire does not grow beyond my ability to quell it."

"I don't approve of this alliance we have made with Chodo Habat and his Ithorians," Kreia huffed.

"I don't need your approval, Kreia," the Exile scoffed as they headed for the shuttles.

"Habat has an agenda and he means to tie you to it."

"Habat is trustworthy. Unlike you."

"I am not asking you to trust me by any means, but I do ask that you listen to my advice," Kreia snapped, her tolerance wearing thin.

"Ugh, do we HAVE to go through another boring Jedi rant?" Atton complained as they walked. This was the thing that pissed him off the most about Jedi. They just talked and talked and _talked._

"Ugh, do YOU have to have the ability to bear children?" Kreia hissed at the rogue, clenching her spindly fingers in warning.

"Er...okay forget I said anything," Atton muttered, suppressing an ingrained reflex to snap the schutta's neck.

"Your advice so far has been nothing but a lot of typically cryptic Jedi crap. When you can come up with a nugget of advice that even a Granite Slug can appreciate, then I will gladly listen. But until that time comes you are to shut up and do as you are told. The matter is closed. Now let us be on our way," the Exile finished.

"Humph. I see we will have to work a lot of things out, Exile," Kreia responded irritably, her hand on her hip.

"Indeed," the Exile replied.

"Yeah, like that'll happen," Atton said. "She hasn't even told either of us her damn name yet." He had his suspicions about who she actually might be, but he wasn't ready to accept it. If he was right...

"What was that? I thought I heard somebody who needed to have their head smack into a wall," the Exile spoke, her normal guttural rasp somewhat lighter than usual.

"Uh, I didn't hear anything," Atton said quickly.

"Good. I would hate to have to test the density of your skull in front of all these people," the Exile spat.

"We don't have any weapons! What if we run into trouble?" Atton demanded to know. This was another thing he hated about Jedi: they always charged into a situation half cocked.

"I will handle everything. No one on this station is a match for me," the Exile assured him.

"Quite a high opinion of yourself, if you ask me," Kreia said in annoyance.

"I didn't ask you," the Exile growled as they reached the Ithorian's docking bay.

"Greetings. May I help you?" The Ithorian Dock Officer asked.

"Habat sent me to escort your droid," the Exile answered.

"Ah. Allow me to unlock the bay for you." The Ithorian replied.

"Kreia, you wait at the door. If anybody other than TSF or Ithorians come through that door, I want them fried by enough lightning to cook the meat on their bones."

"Very well, though I still think this is a bad-"

"Kreia, quit complaining and just do it!" the Exile snapped, finally losing whatever patience she had. Atton raised an eyebrow. She was terrifying when she was angry, but even so...it made her damn attractive.

Up ahead they spotted the Ithorian with the droid intelligence and a TSF guard. "It's a good thing you're here. I'm the only man the TSF could spare for this operation and frankly, this stinks," the Guard said.

"He's not the only one," Atton grumbled. At least somebody here had sense.

"It is good Habat sent you," the Ithorian started, clearly happy at the prospect of Jedi protection. But that was before they spotted the thugs. Twenty in all.

"Wait! Who are they?!" the Ithorian cried.

Atton saw the Exile wheel around

"Don't move, Jedi," the head thug, a dark skinned woman in blue flex armor said with a smirk. "You'll be dead before you can even blink. All we want is the droid intelligence."

Atton knew this could end only one of two ways has he obeyed the voices yelling for him to get down. One of the ghosts actually FORCED him down saying there was nothing he could do and that he would have to trust the Exile. He was beset by a blur of death as the Exile charged with far greater speed than a human should have been able to muster, her hands going into that mysterious pincer shape as she tore the jugulars out of necks, blasting others with lightning. Some of the idiots tried to get close to her with vibroblades, but the Exile launched a series of lightning fast kicks at their necks. The snaps were audible. What blaster shots they did get off only glanced off her body, like she had a deflector shield on or something.

The remaining few tried to desperately fire their weapons point blank only for the Exile to wrench the weapons out of her hand with the Force and fry them with lightning. The stench of their cooked bodies reminded Atton-uncomfortably-of that one Jedi he had set on fire.

_What was his name?_ Atton thought as his victim crouched beside him, observing the battle intently. Atton, out of desperation and hoping he wasn't crazy, decided to ask.

"Hey," he whispered out of the corner of his mouth as he saw the last mercenary catch fire from the lightning. "What was your name, again?"

"Girh Ro-Lat," the ghost, a Neimodian, whispered in reply, still focused on the Exile. "Get up. Battle's over."

Atton saw the pain wrack the Exile's body. She grimaced and he saw the scorch marks on her side.

_Huh. I bet ten years ago, none of those shots would have even managed to graze her, _Atton thought privately.

He almost gulped as he saw the pain in her eyes replaced by that all too familiar look of rage as she strode up to Kreia and grabbed her neck, throttling her.

_Good. The twisted old hag's been nothing but trouble since we first met, _Atton privately applauded.

"I should kill you right here. Leave your corpse among those thugs. Why did you disobey me?" the Exile asked with open murder in her tone.

"I merely was testing you," Kreia placated. "You passed. You are strong. Even with the many wounds you have endured you easily dispatched these ruffians. What was to be gained by an easy solution?"

"I don't need your tests. As a matter of fact I'm not sure I need YOU!" the Exile shot back, squeezing harder on Kreia's neck.

"Be that-as it may-you still need me!" Kreia gasped. "Even you admit you are out of practice. Look at your situation. You need to retrain your muscles. And who would retrain you among the Jedi?"

"Who said I need Jedi to retrain me?" the Exile asked cryptically. "Are those you speak of easily accessible?" Kreia asked, on the verge of blacking out.

Atton saw the Exile work Kreia's words over for a moment. Then, snarling in frustration, she let go of Kreia. "I guess having an untrustworthy instructor is better than none," she rasped. "Very well, Kreia, I accept your instruction-for as long as it suits me to do so. But you had better not disobey me on the battle field again. Otherwise, You will spend the rest of your life in a repulsor lift chair."

"I accept your terms," Kreia said, rubbing her throat.

"Atton? Did the droid intelligence survive?" the Exile called out, not taking her eye off of Kreia.

"Yeah, it survived," Atton griped, coming out of hiding behind a large scrap pile as the ghosts left him for the moment. "I survived too, by the way."

"Oh. Good to hear," the Exile replied, not really caring, much to Atton's irritation. Would it kill her to show a little concern?

"Thank you for saving us!" The Ithorian cried. "I knew Chodo made the right choice in picking you!"

"That was amazing! I've never seen a Jedi in action before!" The TSF guard exclaimed.

"Atton, you're the mule. Don't argue," the Exile said, tossing the pack to Atton. "I'm always the mule," he grumbled, strapping it on.

"I trust you can clear up the matter of these bodies?" the Exile asked the guard.

"Don't worry ma'am. I saw the whole thing. Grenn won't even need a statement from you."

"Good. Droid! Come with me to the Ithorian compound!" she barked.

"I am gladdened by your return," Chodo said as the Exile walked in with the Droid Intelligence.

"A bunch of thugs got past your dock officer with fake TSF credentials," she reported. "I'm sorry, but it ended violently."

"I was afraid of this," Chodo answered sadly. Atton saw conflict pass over the Exile's face. He'd seen that look before. It was the look he'd given buddies during the war that he knew were suffering. She wanted to comfort the alien.

_Well, isn't that just dandy! She wants to be nice to the damn alien when I'm doing all the work and she doesn't even care if I'm alive! _Atton raged quietly. What had he done to her that was so bad? Stare at her chest? Hit on her a little? Lost of guys do that!

"Czerka has to be stopped somehow. If they are willing to do this, who knows what they may try next," Chodo said worriedly.

"Then I am afraid what I must do next will only cause you more grief if you knew the details."

"Wait, what are you going to do?" he asked.

"It's better you don't know." With that, she turned to leave and he and Kreia followed

"So what's next on our agenda?" Atton asked as they stepped out of the compound.

"We look for the Exchange," she answered, tired of being questioned.

"Oh? Then what?"

"Then we kill them."

"Why did I know that was going to be your answer? Where should we look?"

"I say we start at the Cantina, where you made so many lady friends, Atton."

As they entered the Residential Module, the Exile heard a voice that made her stop in her tracks.

"Ah, I _thought _that was you."

She was tall, slim, with silky, blue-black colored hair that went down to her ears. Her skin was like fine ivory and she was wearing a tight fitting dark blue body suit that clung suggestively to her ample bosom. Her hourglass figure sauntered over to the surprised Exile. Her blood colored eyes held a hint of mirth as she approached.

"Shishida," the Exile spoke formally. Atton had seen enough Jedi to know when they were nervous. He'd seen that same nervousness in their eyes whenever he used the vibro-rod on their stomachs. The Exile was clearly rattled by this babe. He wondered what her story was.

"Aww, no need to be so formal, Old Friend," the woman known as Shishida replied warmly. She looked the Exile over like a like a Firaxa stalking Manaan Carp. "You look like hell. Such terrible injuries! Just terrible!"

"What do you want, Shishida?" the Exile asked.

"Well to be honest, I wasn't even looking for you. I am on a sabbatical. I merely spotted you as you were escorting that droid back and decided to say hello. Which reminds me, have you been back home recently?"

"You know very well I haven't been back home for over two decades. You and the rest saw to that."

"Forgive me. I meant no offense. You know, the attitude has cooled to you. You would not suffer persecution if you were to return home."

"I seriously doubt the Order of Saatva would simply overlook my return."

"You would be protected. Your Father would see to it."

"I will have nothing to do with him," the Exile said firmly.

"Are you sure? The way I see it right now, you don't have elsewhere to go, especially after Malachor. Need I mention Peragus?"

"So you've been following me."

"Not following so much as a mild interest," Shishida answered coolly. "So, who are your friends?"

"They're of no interest to you."

"Hey, I'll decide that for myself, thank you!" Atton exclaimed, slicking his hair back, deciding it would be worth the trouble of hitting on her. Not like he could get any action with the Exile. Besides, Shishida looked like she'd be fun in the sack. "Miss Shishida, I'm Atton Rand. It's a delight to meet you. Do you have a sister?"

Shishida laughed, approaching him. "Your companion's a real scoundrel. I can see your taste in men hasn't changed."

"He doesn't know any better Shishida, cut him some slack," the Exile said quickly, her voice containing traces of genuine panic.

"Relax, it's not as though I'm going to bite his head off." Shishida grinned showing her fangs for the first time. She wrapped her arms around Atton, who too late had begun to get a feel for how bad an idea this was as she began entrancing him. He felt his senses dulling as she ran a sharp nail across the left of his neck, drawing a small drop of blood onto it which she put into her mouth. She looked enraptured by the test, with all it's subtle qualities "Hmm...strong...dangerous...mysterious. I'm jealous. You always get the exciting ones!" Shishida said perkily. "Watch this one, Old Friend." Shishida withdrew from Atton while he was still in a stupor.

"So, You still going under an assumed name?" Shishida asked.

"Yes. I would appreciate if you used it," she replied firmly.

"Of course, friend. But I'm afraid I must be going now. Perhaps with luck we will run into one another again," Shishida replied. "I'll leave you to your task." She began walking away.

"Shishida!" the Exile called out, somewhat awkwardly as Atton came back to his senses.

The mysterious woman turned around. "Yes?"

"For what it's worth-it WAS good seeing you again," the Exile admitted ruefully, "even if we are not exactly friends."

"Uhh, what happened?" Atton groaned, coming back fully to reality.

"Your idiocy, that's what," the Exile snapped.

_Always with the damn insults, _he glowered.

"An old enemy?" Kreia asked.

"No-not exactly. I'm not sure I could properly explain my relationship with Shishida Baiken even if I wanted to. No more questions," the Exile answered. "Let's just head to the cantina."

"Hey, at least tell us your name!" Atton protested, losing patience finally. "I don't even know who I'm being frakking led by and I HATE this incognito crap you've got going!"

The Exile thought a moment. "Valia Renn," she said finally.

The news almost made his mouth almost fall open. He had been suspicious, sure, but he never thought he would actually be right.

And if she was who she said she was, then that meant she had a hell of a lot of explaining to do...

"Whoa. You're VALIA RENN? Valiant Valia? The Butcher of Barab? The Executioner? The General who answered directly to Revan? THAT Valia?" he sputtered, trying to make his questions seem as spontaneous and shocked as possible.

"You are right in your own way, but quite wrong in another," Valia replied, her eye darkening for just a second, "let's go."

As the trio left, the figure that had been tailing them, concealed under a stealth field and by Force camouflauge headed back to the apartments and decided to transmit to his superiors. He pulled out the comlink and and the receiver on his ship began relaying his transmission.

About two sectors away, on the refitted Mon Calamari cruiser _Hand of The Phoenix, _Jal-Shey Head Advisor Corle smoothed back his dark, close cropped hair and blinked wine-dark eyes as he stirred from the cot he had been sleeping on as his transceiver beeped. He quickly pulled on his armor and headed over to the desk, pursing his thin lips and rubbing his sharp nose.

"Advisor Corle speaking. Go ahead, Troubleshooter," he said with his heavy Coruscanti accent.

"It is confirmed. Our suspicions were correct about the new owner of the Ebon Hawk," the deep voice replied. "shall I continue to follow them?"

"Yes. Continue tailing them. You think an alliance with Valia Renn is viable?"

"From what I can tell, yeah. She has no love for the Sith. And she could prove usefull to helping us tide the pending invasion, IF we can get that damned Carth Onasi off our backs.

Corle cursed a bit. He had been at least hoping to locate the Jedi Knight Juhani. He had so far failed to bring any of the old crew besides Mission Vao in for questioning. They needed to find Revan, fast.

Corle looked at the strewn about holo-files on the Ebon Hawk's original crew. All had the word MISSING in large red letters over their pictures save for Vao. He looked at the light blue Twilek as she slept fitfully on his couch, changed from the rags she had been wearing only yesterday, having spent almost five years on the run from Republic Black Ops. Mission slept with the lightsaber Revan had trained her to use at her side at all times.

It was funny, Corle thought to himself, just seven years prior, he and an alliance of the Baran Do, the Zeison Sha, the Matukai, the Bladeborn, and the Dark Mercenary Corps had been trying to kill as many high-ranking Sith as they could. Many didn't realize it of course, but Darth Revan's hope for a united galaxy had begun to be crushed long before the Jedi started to do any real damage.

Corle realized that his organization's actions had been reactionary of course. It was not something he liked to admit. Exar Kun and his hoard had brought the Jal-Shey and the other groups to the brink of extinction. Only Qel-Droma's defection had been enough to stem their complete distruction and allow them to recover in the forty years since. Most of them before this had not had any real alliance, just a sort of cooperation to keep the peace on the rim. Many of one faction had helped others during Kun's extermination. The Jedi didn't know about all this because the Jedi had no reason to care. It had seemed like all they were concerned with was staving their own destruction off.

Never again, the groups had vowed when Revan had made her offer. Never again would the Sith threaten them like that. They would have to be vigilant if they wanted to live. So when Darth Revan had appeared in hologram at the groups central conclave, having lured the representatives of all the group's there for her offer, the reaction could almost be forgiven...

The Glygia Enclave, Orisant, seven and a half years ago.

Advisor Corle sat down in his seat as he took stock of the other representatives at this informal gathering. Nom Shubar, a Baran Do Master adjusted his gas mask, his Kel-Dor lungs not suited to the environment. Yattocha, a Zeison Sha Warrior Master, wore a grimace as her orange lekku twitched in the heat.

Corle sighed. Zeison Sha. Hot heads, in his opinion. He took a glance at the Matukai Instructor known simply as the Monkey Master, whose wizened old beard and dark blue eyes bespoke years of of both laughter and sorrow. Interestingly enough, there was also Master Soret, His face concealed under a breath mask and dark goggles, of the Bladeborn faction. His Tremor Sword was always at his side, encased in its dark sheath. It was odd that a member of that faction would be here. They usually left everybody else alone. Their relationship to the Sith was suspect and tenuous at best, so they saw no need to adopt some of the more undesirable traits Sith were known for.

Corle decided to break the ice. "So, anybody know who sent out that coded communication?"

All of them shook their heads.

"We were under the impression that the Jal-Shey had asked us here to address some issue with territory," Yattocha answered.

"That's what I thought too. I thought we were all keeping to our side of the fence."

"No, we have not been having any issues," Corle replied, attempting to get to the bottom of this.

"Could be a trap," Master Soret said. "But who would be stupid enough to try and kill us?"

"This is no trap. I assure you," a young, seductive voice called out. Everyone's eyes instantly became fixed on the center of the table they were all sitting at as the hologram of Darth Revan popped up, fully adorned in her black and red armor.

Yattocha let out a sigh. "Great. A Sith."

"What do you want?" Corle asked as he privately signaled to the Jal-Shey students that had accompanied them to search for the transmitter.

"I apologize for the deception but I didn't want to waste time and track all of you down in turn and make the same offer over and over."

"Offer?" the Monkey Master asked.

"The offer to join me."

The masters stiffened. "Explain yourself," Corle said cautiously.

"You are aware that I have begun my campaign against the corrupt and stagnant Republic and the Jedi who defend it are you not?"

"We follow the news," Yattocha snapped irritably. "So? The Republic's not any of our concern. We don't like those damn baby-snatchers either, but we see no reason to start anything."

"The Jedi have marginalized you, spit on your beliefs simply because they were different. Master Nom, do you recall how over twenty years ago, Master Vrook Lamar discouraged the Kel-Dor-your OWN RACE-from learning from you because your view of the Force was not the same as the Jedi view? Or do you, Corle, recall how the Order sent investigator after investigator to your facilities, concerned that your groups understanding of the Force stripped all meaning behind it and made it little more than a tool to be utilized? Do you remember how Atris openly condemned your order's experiments as 'mechinations of the Dark Side'?"

Revan turned to the Monkey Master. "Perhaps you remember how the Jedi's report of the Matukai has branded your group a dangerous cult in some sectors."

Finally she turned to Soret. "You have history with the Sith. You command the power of the Dark Side and personally enriched your students. How does that make you evil? Why should you be marginalized and not claim you rightful place to power?"

Soret snorted. "Whatever."

Revan was unreadable behind her mask, but she seemed to stiffen slightly at Soret's remark. She then turned to the others once again. "I offer you the chance to join me. To help shape a new age and course for the Galaxy. An age of freedom. An age where you will not be marginalized or suppressed or bullied into believing someone else's twisted views. Join me, and you will all become the forefront of my army. You shall be my partners in rebuilding people's concept of the Force. Do not side against me. I do not want you as enemies. It would be a tragic waste of your talents. I shall transmit here in three days. I look forward to our partnership," Darth Revan said earnestly before cutting off.

The entire group was silent.

"Damned Sith. And a Nosferan on top of that," Yattocha snorted.

Corle decided to be the one to say what they were all thinking.

"Okay...was ANYONE at all pleased with what we just heard? Raise your hands if you were."

Nobody did.

"We don't owe the Sith squat," Soret grumbled. "Who the hell does this schutta think she is?"

"I sense what you are all moving towards," Master Nom said softly, "and it will be bloody."

"Nom, what happens if we join her?" Yattocha asked.

Nom went silent, focusing on the currents and eddies of the Force. "Difficult to say. The darkness of the approaching war clouds everything, but what I DO see isn't good. There is a very good chance that if we side with her, we could all risk becoming just more pawns in the dejarik board she has set up. I say...no. Every one of our orders have suffered under the Sith and uncaring Jedi. Why shackle ourselves?"

"Hmmm...true," Yattocha replied. "Let's off this schutta and her Sith flunkies."

"Easier said than done," Corle spoke apprehensively. "Revan has a whole army to protect her. Even if we all banded together, I estimate we would be just under five thousand."

"Fear not," said another female voice, this one cool and collected

The group turned and faced a woman covered in black armored robes. Her hair was red and her eyes were a sulfurous yellow, her skin had a subtle tan to it, like it was out in the sun often. Next to her was a rather befuddled looking young blonde man in brown and white. He seemed out of place next to her, looking more like a scholar than a warrior. He was busily typing on a datapad.

"And you would be?" Corle asked.

"I am Mistress Asp. I am the head of a group known as the Dark Mercenary Corps. I come to make you an offer. You see, we too are not so eager to bow to Revan and all her power. My organization is at seven thousand strong and well versed in carrying out assaults as well as recruiting. Add to the fact they we have a working relationship with many of the rogue Force Users and our capacity more than doubles," Asp said with all the pleasantness of a sales pitch. "Sith are not trustworthy and they NEVER pay well enough. That and the fact that the Jedi would automatically have us all arrested bars us from offering our services to the Republic-for now. And so I have come here to offer my services to you. I know that the Jal-Shey and Bladeborn all have deep pockets, so...let's talk price," she finished, taking a seat. She turned to her assistant.

"I thought you opposed Revan's power grab as much as we do," Yattocha snorted.

"I have to cover expenses somehow," Asp replied before turning to her assistant. "Mical, would you mind running up the figures?"

"Oh, yes, Lady Asp," Mical answered, clearing his throat. "Hiring the Dark Mercenary Corps will run you about fifteen billion credits, not counting supplies and any man power lost during the operation Lady Asp is willing to conduct."

"Thank you, Mical. Please go check on our landing sight. The swamps here have a bad habit of rusting starship metal. Tell me how the landing team is doing, while you are at it."

"Of course." Mical bowed and left the room.

"Nice kid. Great intern. A bit naive though," Asp said before turning to the gathered Masters. "Now, about price..."

Present Day...

Corle sighed. They had spent the half the war trying to off Revan. Now they needed her more than ever.

It was funny how life worked.


	4. Two Fugitives

The Hand of the Phoenix

Advisor Corle sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose to hold back the growing tension headache

"So you're telling me that you have absolutely no idea where Revan is, other than you last saw her fighting Carth Onasi?"

"Thats what I said, ain't it?" Mission Vao shot back. While she was grateful at first for getting off the street, she was now not at all sure that the Jal-Shey were a better prospect.

"Do you think it's possible she escaped his clutches?"

Mission thought a moment.

"Not a chance," she replied, her heart cracking as she admitted what she had suspected for months. "Revan was kinda messed up after that last battle with Malak. But she would have recovered if she had just been given some time. Unfortunately, that frakking bastard Carth decided she had out lived her usefulness and made his move. He didn't care if we were all killed in the crossfire, he just wanted Revan dead," she explained, her heart starting to smoulder as she remembered how Carth's aqua green lightsaber had gone through Revan's back, remembered the cry that tore from Jolee's throat as he rushed to defend her only to be pushed back with the Force by Revan, who had screamed for them all to run.

"I take it you and her were close?" Corle asked, going over her psychological profile.

"Yeah! Me, her, Jolee, Zaalbaar, and Juhani were all gonna find some quiet place on the rim after the war. No more killing. No more running," Mission trailed off and her eyes hardened with anger.

"How lovely," Corle replied, not glancing up.

Mission shot daggers at him. "You making fun of me?! I'm not some kid anymore! This isn't something you can just get over!" The petulant nature of her retort showed she still hadn't quite grown up.

"True, but getting angry is not going to make Carth Onasi any deader, now is it? One thing at a time, than we figure out how our partnership with you can be mutually beneficial," Corle replied, going over the profiles of everyone in the Ebon Hawk with a clinical interest.

Mission huffed and leaned back in her seat. Perhaps she was better off on the run, living out of the gutter just as she had on Taris, although the second time around was nowhere near as easy, considering the potentially better life she had had stolen from her.

It had never been easy on Taris. Over the years Mission had tried to put on a happy face for her and Zaalbaar, scraping whatever she could from her scams and relying on Gadon Thek's kindness. It had only been when she had begun living on the Ebon Hawk that she had realized how desperately unhappy she actually was. So desperate in fact that she considered Jolee and Revan and Juhani the only family besides Big Z that she had really had.

Being forced to live in the street again, keeping out of sight, hunted day and night by the Republic had caused her to nearly have a nervous breakdown, with Big Z the only person keeping her together. Until he had died saving her, of course.

She had been sort of living in a haze on Ord Mandell, having lost all hope, the only thing she had left of Big Z was his wonderfully crafted sword his father had given him, which the Jal Shey had taken when they had tracked her down.

"So back to my questions about the rest of the crew. Jolee Bindo now particularly interests me. You say he and Revan were an item?"

"Duh! He got real close to her. Had a lot of baggage to get through, though."

"And Juhani?"

"Juhani fled the other way with Jolee when Revan told us to run I...don't think she's doing so well."

"Oh? Why?"

"I can feel it. Don't ask me how."

"What of Canderous Ordo?"

"Carth set the poor guy on fire when he tried to help Revan. Cut his limbs off too. I had to drag him on our stolen transport to the Bavakar Cybernetics Lab to get him patched up. We parted ways after that."

"And the Wookie, Zaalbaar?"

Tears started welling before she broke down in full blown sobs.

"Mission, I can't help you if I don't know all the details."

"Zaalbaar's dead, alright?" she snapped as the tears fell. "They shot him to pieces and just left him there like a sack of meat for the insects to devour! I couldn't even bury him properly!"

Corle stiffened. It was indeed a brutal way to die. He knew because he himself had ordered many Sith Lords to their deaths in just such a manner. The Matukai hit squads also regularly used the attack-but with razor sharp disc blades instead of informal blasters.

Corle frowned, recalling the venomous acts of cruelty on Darth Revan's Sith.

"I see," he replied formally, folding his hands. "My sympathies. Your Wookie friend may be dead but perhaps we can still help the others."

"We? Who the frak are you people anyway?"

"We are an...alliance. A Rebel Alliance, if you will. We opposed Darth Revan's campaign to take over the Galaxy. Had to do all sorts of nasty things to her to win. But that is in the past, and it was before we learned of the truth behind the war. Matter of fact, we need her help."

"Help? With what? And what truth?"

Corle rubbed his eyes again.

"Tell me, Ms. Vao, do you have the slightest inkling of why Darth Revan tried to bring the Galaxy under her control?"

"Well...uh...no, not really. With the Sith, I always figured it was an ego thing."

"And normally you would be correct. The Jal-Shey-the faction of this Alliance that I am aligned with-often studied the motivation of the Sith Lords. But seeing how the Sith are hostile in nature, we cannot simply walk up to them like we could with other 'Dark Side' groups and ask them. So we often resort to capturing them and subjecting them to experiments."

"That's horrible!"

"More horrible than what a Sith does on any given day of the week?"

Mission thought a moment. "Well...no. But that's still awful!"

"Please. Nobody, including the Sith themselves, like the Sith. Goes double if you live on the rim. If something bad happens to them, nobody will care, and as history as taught us, once people have identified some person or thing with villainy, virtually anything can be done to that person or thing with no fear of repercussion. And it isn't as though Sith are not as bad as everyone says they are. They've had this sort of thing coming to them for years and everyone knows it. Then again, that is what happens when you get it into your mind that it's okay to act like a brute just because some quirk of genetics gives you an advantage. In a way, what we do to them is almost poetic."

"Wait...what DO you do to them?"

Corle stared at her and then laughed a bit.

"Oh, don't worry your pretty little lekku, Miss Vao. Besides, it isn't really fit for polite conversation anyway. But I will say that there can be moments for fun when they cannot see what you are doing. Let's just...leave it at that."

Mission squirmed at the statement but let it slide.

Corle glanced behind her, his expression hardening.

"Something new to report Mical?"

"Yes, I'm afraid," Mical answered, stepping into his office. "We've found her."

"You mean-"

"Yes, we found Revan. It's bad, very bad, I'm afraid. We intercepted a transmission from Carth Onasi's ship. He was trans-"

Mission leapt up, her hope renewed. "Where is she? Can I see her? Is she alright?"

Mical gave a quick glance at Corle. Corle nodded slightly.

"I'm afraid it isn't as...simple as that, Miss-?"

"Vao. Mission Vao. Where's Revan?"

"Revan is-well, you have to understand, Miss Vao, we have been searching for Revan for close to four years. We had no idea what condition she would be in, or even if she would be willing to help us. So when we heard that Carth Onasi had her captive and was transferring her to a stronghold of his on Telos, we scrambled a crack boarding team and attacked as quickly as we could. We found Revan, stole her after Admiral Onasi killed far too many of us, and got the hell out of there. But Revan-"

"What happened to her?" Mission demanded.

Mical sighed and then snapped his fingers.

Two Jal-Shey acolytes carted a portable medical tank, suspended on repulsor lift into the room.

Mission fell to her knees and started sobbing.

"What did that bastard do to her?" she wept.

Revan-or, more precisely, what was left of Revan was suspended in that medical tank. Most of the flesh was gone, an arm and both legs missing, the eye sockets empty, a breath hose snaking it's way past fanged teeth no longer covered by lips.

"There is minimal brain activity, so she isn't just a sack of meat. Carth was experimenting on her, trying to discover the correct way to cut her off from the Force, which would allow him to kill her. What he didn't realize was that a lightsaber crystal fired into the heart would have done the trick, but being that he doesn't know much about species on the outer rim, he's had to resort to special retardation drugs that slow her ability to heal. He didn't even bother with a medically induced coma, her mind just-shut down after so many experiments. He wanted to make her suffer as long as he possibly could."

Corle didn't even blink. "Get her to the surgical reconstruction center."

"NO!" Mission yelled, getting up and shoving Mical away from the tank. "She's suffered enough!"

"We need the information in her head. If we don't find some way to speak with her-"

"What's in her head that's so damned important! The Star Forge is gone! Destroyed!"

"We're not worried about a glorified spare parts factory. What we are worried about is the very real threat of invasion."

Mission paused. "Invasion? From whom? The Sith were defeated."

Corle let out another small laugh.

"If only it were those incompetents we had to worry about. Tell me, Mission, have you ever heard of Midichloral manipulation?"

"A little."

"Oh, dear, I know where this is going," Mical interjected.

"Tell me, what do you know?" Corle asked Mission.

"It's like some sort of Sith black magic."

"Please. Midichloral manipulation is a branch of genetic research that deals with Force Sensitives. Alot of us scholarly types thought it was a myth. For the most part it was, until a Jedi Master by the name of Kashtu, a Miralukan, made incredible strides forward into that field of research. By all accounts, she produced the first ever person created by Midichloral manipulation, a man who is now thankfully working for us. Naturally, the Jedi Council was appalled by her experiments, and confiscated her research, and the baby she had produced through it, and exiled her. Unfortunately, exile is never a smart practice, it amounts to little more than ritualistic shunning-so it was little wonder that Kashtu ended up becoming the Dark Lord of the Sith-before Exar Kun took the title, in fact. She also happened to be the Sith Lord from whom Darth Revan drew most of her ideals on politics and philosophy from. She organized a group she dubbed the Order of the Sith Philosophers and waged a campaign against the Jedi, both in covert war and in an area which they were completely unprepared to defend-their belief system. Eventually, she was supposedly struck down by her former Padawan in single combat. Never found a body, though."

"Well that's all very fascinating, but what does it have to do with this whole invasion thing you're telling me about?"

"Darth Kashtu wrote a book citing all her discoveries in Midichloral manipulation, as well as her opinions on law and philosophy. There are only three known copies in existence and Darth Revan was said to be in possession of two of them. We believe that this enemy managed to get their hands on the remaining copy and is working from that. My father let me have a look at it once before-" Mical stopped, catching his error.

"To do what? And what were you going to say?" Mission asked.

"Midichloral manipulation is capable of not only altering already existing life forms. It can make life from absolutely nothing. That is what the enemy is doing, growing thousands of soldiers in vats. Ready for combat Force users. And never mind what I was going to say. it's not important," Mical added.

"But who is this enemy? Dark siders?"

"Worse...light siders," Mical answered. "The galactic core is about to get very crowded. But we have spoken enough. We need to get Revan to at least communicate with us. It's for her own good that we get her down to reconstruction-"

An inhuman scream sent a chill up Corle's spine. Everyone turned their head to Revan's kolto tank.

What was left of her started to shake, spasm. Her empty eye sockets glowed with a brilliant blue energy.

"Oh, dear," Mical got out, knowing something very bad was about to happen.

Cracks formed on the surface of the tank. What appeared to be a tendril of the same energy formed on the stump of Revan's left arm and smashed the tank open. Everyone was thrown back by a pulse of energy from Revan.

Revan formed what passed for legs out of more blue energy and let out another scream of rage. Both Mission and Corle scrambled to get the situation under control.

"Rev! IT'S ME!" Mission yelled.

Revan didn't seem to be paying any attention to this. She-or it-let out another howl of rage and forced gripped a Jal-Shey acolyte.

The poor young man screamed as blood started trickling out of his eyes and mouth and started floating to Revan's open maw. Mical saw some white appearing in the man's hair.

Without thinking, Mical Force pushed Revan away from the injured acolyte. Mission made a mad scramble for the man who now looked very pale and weak.

Revan scrambled back up, still snarling and howling in pain and rage and fear. Mical did a quick scan of her mind. It was a jumbled mess, like eggs that had been beaten.

Mical also noticed that Revan had grabbed something off the acolyte.

It was a lightsaber. A green one.

"Drat," he said under his breath. He reached into his brown vest and pulled out his lightsaber.

An acid red blade shot out.

"Get a security team up here and some knockout gas. Even in her injured state I don't think I could hold her for long," Mical said to Corle.

Corle nodded and hit the alarm.

Revan snarled and leapt for him.

Mical dodged and took a swipe at her limb. He didn't relish the thought of injuring Revan-she had once been a friend. But she wasn't rational. If he didn't fight her, she'd chop his head off, or worse, do that thing she had done to the acolyte.

Revan slammed her weapon with all the might her ghostly arms could muster against his defense. He shoved her back with Force strength and and kept up his guard when she made a haphazard lunge for his throat.

Mical easily dodged the poorly executed strike only to barely hold back a bolt of lightning that erupted from Revan's ghostly hands with a roar. He blocked with his saber and hurled a small bolt at her as well, which she dodged.

It was clear to the historian that Revan seemed to be fighting on little more than instinct. Her attacks were unfocused, motivated and executed with little more than blinding rage and agony. There was no pattern, no focus, just the desire to attack, relentlessly. Mical was brought out of his observation when Revan Force pushed him against the wall. She screamed in pain again and fled the room.

"Dammit!" Mical spat. "Miss Vao, come with me! You might be the only one who can get through to her!"

Mission grabbed her own lightsaber and both rushed to the outer corridor.

Revan was Force pushing everything and everyone out of her way, still howling with all her might. Some of her Force pulses left dents and fractures in the hull of the intelligence ship they were on. Expensive equipment had been decimated by her lightsaber and she was madly lunging for anyone she spotted.

"Revan! Stop this! We're not your enemies!" Mical called out.

The feral creature turned, again spotting Mical. She leaped for him, twisting in the air, her lightsaber held above her head as though it was a drill as she twisted.

Mical back flipped out of the way as Revan landed, frantically blocking her furious one handed swipes and thrusts. Jal-Shey and Matukai scrambled out of the way of the duel.

"REVAN! STOOPPP!" Mission yelled.

Revan turned to the Twilek. The light in her eye sockets seemed to dim, but she shook it off and lunged.

A teal blade erupted from Mission's hilt and she turned aside a vicious chop, kicking Revan back in the process.

Revan landed on her phantom feet and caught an unlucky male Twilek Matukai who had tried to run.

Fangs appeared in Revan's mouth and she sunk them in to the man's neck.

The man screamed in pain as Revan started drinking feverishly. Mical watched in amazement as some of the tissue on Revan's chest and limbs grew back.

"Dammit, it's the Leviathan all over again!" Mission cried. She dashed toward Revan, making a mad tackle and ripping Revan away from her victim, who collapsed, unconscious.

Mical rushed to help her as Revan grabbed Mission by her neck and started to squeeze. Revan screamed again as Mical made a horizontal slice to her side that the near dead creature just barely managed to crudely block. Then Revan twisted to the side and brought her fanged mouth to bear on Mical. She tackled him and the historian felt her strangely hot, rancid breath against his neck as she tried to bite him. She had forgotten her lightsaber completely and was focused only on the neck. Even when using both hands, it was barely enough to keep teeth from skin.

Then he felt someone pulling her off of him. It was Mission, tears in her eyes as she struggled with her.

"Revan, please stop! You're going to kill someone if this keeps up!"

Revan howled in anger and tried to escape Mission's embrace, but her grip wouldn't abate.

"Stop! You're a good person, don't do this! I don't wanna lose you like I lost Big Z! Please!"

Revan's next howl seemed to cut off at those lat few words. The light in her eyes dulled. The struggling slowly stopped.

"Mishhhhh...Misshhhhh..." the creature tried to speak.

"Yeah! It's me! It's Mission!" Mission replied, encouraging that spark of reason that had begun to flare.

"Mmmiiissshhhhhuuunnn..." Revan tried to speak still blinded by pain, but at least not wanting to struggle any more.

"NOW!"

Revan howled as a mess of tranquilizer darts pierced her. The ghost limbs faded from sight as the creature slumped.

"You idiot!" Mission yelled at Corle and his security team. "I was getting through to her!"

"I'm not going to risk anybody else. It's going to take me a month to replace all the stuff she just destroyed. You know how expensive this stuff is?"

Revan's breathing was coming in ragged. Mission gently laid her on the ground.

"Incredible," Mical added as he dusted himself off. "Judging by the damage to her body she shouldn't be alive right now, but she is..."

"That's Nosferan's for you: Tough little bastards, even at their weakest," Corle replied. "Somebody get her back into a kolto tank. And up the dosage of tranquilizer in it."

Two acolytes responded to the order immediately. They quickly went over to Revan with a stretcher and gathered her onto it. Mission immediately got up.

"I'm coming with her to the infirmary, Corle. No arguments," she said.

Corle sighed. "Fine, if you absolutely must, though I do think you could better help Revan by not being in the way." With a wave of his hand, Corle promptly dismissed her.

Just as Mission was about to escort the acolytes to the ring, realization came over her. She rushed back to Corle.

"Corle! Kashtu was the name of Jolee's first master!"

Corle's eyes widened. How the hell had that been left off his record?

"Oh dear," Mical spoke worriedly. "It appears we shall have to locate Bindo immediately."

Restoration Zone, Telos.

It had been going so well.

Valia had managed to locate a member of the Exchange, a Zeltron by the name of Luxa, and convinced her to let her have a go at Loppak Slusk, the head of the Exchange on Citadel. After quickly slaughtering him and his entire security detail, Luxa had promised not to lay a hand on the Ithorians-which was an easy promise to keep considering what Valia had done to Loppak with just her bare hands. Chodo Habat had been relieved that his work could now continue. But saddened that it had ended so violently. Valia's heart had gone out to him, but she had no time to comfort him and needed to find their ship as soon as possible. After honoring his deal and restoring some of her connection to the Force, Valia and company had headed for the surface of the devastated planet in the hopes of locating that pile of rust that had gotten them off Peragus.

It had been going good, too, until the turret fire from below had started.

She didn't remember too much of the crash. All she remembered was a pair of strong arms pulling her out of the wreck.

It was the voice that made her get up.

"Well I'll be damned! Good to see you again, General."

Valia stood up wearily, noticing her left arm was dislocated and gave a grunt, popping it back into place.

Valia got a good look at her former tech officer. He didn't seemed to have aged much over the years. Hell, he looked like he was wearing the same overalls he had worn in the Mandalorian wars. His tattoos had become more distinct. What did surprise her was that he looked like he had been working out. His arms and chest were muscled out. During the war, he had had a bit of a belly on him. But it was a noncombat role, with him rarely going to the frontlines, and he was on loan from the Iridonian Mechanic Corps, so she hadn't said anything.

"Bao-Dur," Valia greeted formally. "Been a long time. You look healthy."

"You surprise me as always, General. I thought for sure you were bound to have some short term memory loss," Bao-Dur remarked.

"Uhhh...what happened?" Atton asked in a groggy manner.

"We were shot at," Valia replied.

"Well is that old hag dead, at least?" Atton grumbled.

"The old lady is out cold. Gave her some painkillers. But I got those things second hand, so I'm not to sure what they'll do to her," Bao-Dur answered. "Old people are fun to mess with."

Valia glanced over at Kreia. Bao-Dur seemed to have drawn a happy face on her forehead.

"Amusing," Valia commented glibly.

_Wow, that was unusual. Not like him to do something like that. Probably a little screwy in the head. But I guess when you ask a man to crush a planet, you have to expect a few changes, _Valia thought.

"Oh. Dammit. Is that why my vision is all funny?" Atton asked, beginning to scratch his neck incessantly. "My skin feels like a million mice are biting the living you-know-what out of it."

"Hmmm...That's not supposed to happen," the Zabrak added. "I might've overdosed you. But it was probably only a tiny overdose, so I would not worry too much."

Kreia suddenly stirred.

"Uhhh..." Kreia got out. "I see the fool managed to crash the ship."

"Hey, lighten up! If I hadn't been such a crack pilot, I could have crashed us into the shield wall," Atton glowered.

"Yes, and our current situation is a vast improve-"

"He did his best, Kreia. Even I didn't think we'd get shot at," Valia snapped.

"Hmmm...perhaps." Kreia suddenly sniffed something.

"Has someone been eating Toydarian cooking?"

Bao-Dur, Valia, and Atton, shook their heads, but out of the corner of her eye, Valia could see Bao-Dur patting his stomach in satisfaction.

_Not good. He IS screwed up._

"So," Atton began. "Who shot us?"

"Czerka mercenaries. Been hunting me ever since they caught me 'sabotaging' their food supply," Bao-Dur answered.

Kreia turned to Valia. "Who is he?"

"Bao-Dur. My former tech officer."

"What's wrong with him?"

"What's wrong with anyone who sees and does too much?" Valia replied. "C'mon. Let's go. If Czerka has a base, they probably have a shuttle pad."

"Very well. I assume the Alien will be joining us?"

"Beats watching the dust settle. And I need to get back to Citadel anyway," Bao-Dur replied. "Lead on, General."

Next: Atris


	5. Old Dark Tidings

Telos, Restoration zone.

"Is the alien sure he knows where he is going? We have already been given good reason not to trust him," Kreia huffed indignantly.

"He knows the direction. He is also quite loyal," Valia rasped. "How are you feeling?"

"Besides the fact that I have no idea what he put into my system and that this stuff makes me see things that aren't there I'm doing perfectly," Kreia replied, scratching her neck incessantly.

Valia did not have the heart to mention the happy face drawn on her forehead. Nor did Atton, but only because he was laughing his butt off in his head.

"The years have not been kind to you, General," Bao-Dur spoke as they walked across the grass. "You look like you went through a trash compacter, if you forgive my saying so."

"You're right," she answered, remembering Kreia's dumb idea to escape from the Sith using the Harbinger's trash compacter. If Atton hadn't sliced the emergency access...

"Huh. Guess your luck's worse than I recall," he mused, whistling. "You never could keep from getting injured. All through the Mandalorian wars did I see you sustain injuries that would have killed men twice your size."

"Let's not talk about that damned war. Gives me aches thinking about it."

"I know how you feel. Alright, no more talk about the war. What did you do with yourself after Malachor?"

"I was exiled from the Jedi Order. I spent the next seven years on an isolated moon. It was called Iga."

"Tough life on Iga?" Atton asked, curiosity aroused.

"Flowers grow there," Valia answered simply, in a tone that said not to ask any more.

Bao-Dur signaled for everybody to stop. Up ahead was a band of mercs setting up equipment.

"These are the mercenaries that have been after me since I escaped." Bao-Dur grimaced. "Let's see if we can't find a way-"

"-Around them?" Valia finished for him. "No. I'm on a schedule."

Without waiting for objections, she marched off to the mercs.

The mercenaries had just finished unpacking their speeders when they saw her.

"Lookee here boys," the top merc, a grizzled, blond man laughed. "We come looking for a horned freak and we find a piece of tail instead."

"Got some curves on her. I do admit," another merc said. "But look at the face, this schutta's damaged goods."

"I heard you were looking for a Zabrak," Valia said calmly. "Perhaps you can be persuaded to look elsewhere."

The blond merc hefted his heavy repeater. "No chance of that, little lady. We got our orders and that bastards been going to the bathroom in our food storage for a week. No chance. If you're hiding him, you're even crazier than he is. Look, it's clear you know something, so why don't you cut the crap and tell us?"

"Oh, I know something alright," Valia replied. "I know that you are all about to be in an incredible amount of pain."

Valia grabbed the merc by his neck and lifted him up even as he was holding his repeater and tossed him at a speeder. His head clipped the side and he was knocked out. The other mercs fired but Valia somersaulted over them, landing behind two of them and gripping their shoulder in a deadly pincer move. They collapsed, howling as their collarbone fractured.

The remaining man pounced with a force pike. Valia used his momentum against him and flipped him over, using the butt of the pike and smacking it against his temple. The man's eyes fluttered before closing.

Valia signaled for the others. "Strip them," she ordered. They gathered a number of weapons, including a pair of knives Valia found rather arresting and a Mandalorian disintegrator for Atton, while Kreia thumbed the edge of a Sith tremor sword.

"Huh. I'm surprised you didn't kill them," Atton noted.

"They were just five men. And besides, they weren't really looking to kill. They were just looking for some quick cash. Nothing to dismember them over," Valia hissed. "There are people like this everywhere. I can't blame them."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. At Nar Shaddaa, there are droves of these guys."

"It's good to know you've retained at least some of your restraint," Bao-Dur spoke admiringly. "We should keep moving."

"Here, take this," Valia said, offering the force pike. Bao-Dur grasped it, giving it a twirl.

"This'll do for now," he approved.

Valia merely grunted and began walking ahead. As she walked, she tried to lose herself for a moment, focusing on the wind.

_It used to be like this on Dantooine._ She thought. _I miss their flowers._

Valia found herself drifting off...

Coruscant, 19 years ago...

Jedi High Council Chamber.

"This is highly unorthodox," Vrook protested. "There is a reason we do not bring in people over a certain age. She is _fourteen, _Master Kavar."

"But surely you have felt the power in this girl!" Master Kavar protested. The whole Council, with the exception of Master Kreia had convened for this special case. "She is special. The Force is subtle in her. It makes connections like a spider's web. I have seen this in no one else. It would be foolish not to train her-"

"Train her? It is already clear she has training. Those lightsaber wounds didn't happen by themselves," Master Vash noted quietly. "Has she said anything about where she was from?"

"No. I found her working at a cantina here," Kavar replied cooly. He understood their unease at taking in someone so old, but she was too powerful to be left in the street, her potential untrained. He would simply have to overcome that, as usual.

"It is not wise to train a student who will not be honest with us," the Zabrak Jedi Quatra spoke, scowling under her dark robe.

"She hasn't lied; she is simply hesitant to tell us where she hails from."

"It is a lie by omission," Quatra replied.

"Much power, do I sense in this young one. Much power. Subtle...hidden...dangerous," Master Vandar spoke, eyes closed. "She should not be out in the street. Her origins can be unearthed later."

"Good. It does not matter where she hails from. We should focus on the now. Her power is great, and her ability to form bonds is as dangerous as it is untrained. I ask that she be taught to harness her power for the greater good. Would you turn away a Revan, if another Revan were brought to you? She is in that category and it would be foolish to let her go back to work in the cantina."

"I agree," Zhar spoke, shifting in his seat. "Let's put it to a vote." He raised his hand. "All in favor of having Valia Renn accepted into the order as a Padawan, raise their hand."

The masters thought a moment, communing with the Force. Finally Vrook spoke.

"Master Kavar, are you certain you can train her responsibly and well?"

"I'd stake my connection to the Force on it."

Vrooks eyebrows furrowed. Then finally, reluctantly, he raised his hand. The other Masters followed suit.

"Very well," He admonished. "Bring the girl in again."

Kavar nodded. He signaled the knight at the door to bring her in. The knight escorted the young woman in.

She was wearing dirty brown clothes, grease from the kitchen everywhere. She was silent, her face betrayed no emotion, but that did not go on to imply serenity. It was simply impassive. She stopped, maintaining a respectful distance, glancing at them with her good eye.

"You may step closer, young one," Zhar encouraged. His eye fell on the ghastly lightsaber scar on her exposed left arm, and then ran across her scarred knuckles, clearly showing she was used to a hard life.

"Valia Renn, after some debate, we have voted to accept you into the Jedi Order," he said after a second or so. "In the Order you will learn to use the Force, specifically the light side. While it is obvious to this council that you already have some training, we ask that you be patient with our methods and try to learn the force as we teach it. On the upside, you will get through the initial training much faster."

"The way of the Jedi is long and difficult. You will be called on to resist the temptations of the dark side and defend the Republic. You must also cast off your passions, as they are a path to the dark side. I am unsure of your level of instruction so I will remind you that no matter what you were previously taught, overcoming your passions will be one of your new goals. Now do you understand?" Vrook inquired.

Valia nodded. "I submit to your instruction." Her voice was oddly mature, scratchy and had a bit of a husky quality to it. And then, much to their surprise, she got on bended knee, her head lowered respectfully. She held the posture for ten seconds and then stood.

Kavar nodded and the knight escorted her out. "Humph. At least she has respect," Vrook admitted grudgingly.

Vandar was pursed deep in thought as the girl left.

_Familiar, she is. _He took a glance at Vrook. The man seemed cautious, yet oblivious as to the young girls familiar presence.

_That he too does not notice how familiar she seems, a wonder, this is._

She had been shuttled to Dantooine with Kavar the very next day. She had been uncomfortable in the brown and white robes and had been shifting around in them. She did not have much with her, other than the simple lightsaber she had built. She had gotten a good look at Dantooine before the descended to land. It looked fine. Peaceful. A nice place for flowers to grow.

"Welcome to your new home, Valia," Kavar said as they stepped off the shuttle. "I've arranged for you to share a dorm with four other students. You'll find them in the sublevel to the enclave. Door 1a, I believe. But I suggest you make yourself familiar with the place."

Valia nodded. "Yes, Master." She took slow steps as she walked, her mind focusing on the soft wind blowing in her face. Her eye fell on a patch of white togrutan lilies. She made a note to stand next to the flowers, later on.

She and Kavar reached the courtyard and it was not long before she noticed two Jedi arguing.

"Alek, your insistence on using Djem So is tiresome. Everybody knows that Makashi is the best," the white haired female in the scarlet robes said.

"Power to drive the opponent back in a fight matters most. Fancy moves don't win battles, Rev," Alek replied, self assured.

Valia paled slightly as she stared at the young woman's crimson eyes. Black hatred boiled up to the surface but Valia suppressed it.

_I fled the rim to escape her wretched kind! There aren't supposed to be any Nosferans out here! _Valia cursed inwardly, but controlled her breathing. It wasn't her problem. All she needed to do was avoid her...

Present day.

"Exile!"

Valia snapped out of her memory and stared at Kreia. "What is it?"

"A thought occurred to me just now. If I am to train you I should know what you previously excelled at."

"I excelled in all the Jedi martial arts, but favored my hands, my feet, or knives and blasters."

"An odd thing for a Jedi to favor. I assume you have no interest in building a lightsaber?"

"I do not favor the glow stick. Besides, having a lightsaber is like having a target the size of a Republic capital cruiser painted on you. Everybody focuses on you. It is not suitable in my line of work."

"Line of work? Just what did you do?"

"You could say I was an assassin."

"Ah. It is as I suspected. You are one of the Shadows."

Valia craned her head very slowly to Kreia. "What did you say?"

"You are of the Shadows. I confess to a feeling of apprehension."

"How do you know about us?"

"Uh, what's a Shadow?" Atton asked.

"Shadows are the black hand of the Jedi. They are assassins trained to eliminate other Force users. Almost all of the Order's dirty secrets can be traced directly to the actions of the Shadows. Many of them are freaks of nature. Some are said to have Force powers which are constantly active, others are said to have lethal versions of the powers the Jedi offer and are said to command black magic. They were regarded as too dangerous to allow for the mainstream life of a Jedi and yet too valuable to let go of," Kreia explained as though it were obvious.

"This true, General?" Bao-Dur asked.

"I suppose there is no point denying it. Yes. I was a Shadow," Valia answered. "Now, stop asking."

They continued their walk down a narrow pass and, much to their dismay, found several HK-50 droids waiting for them.

"Exasperated Declaration: THERE you are. We had given up almost any hope of finding you on this dying rock," the lead HK spoke.

"Quick clarification: But now that we have found you, we were hoping to persuade you to lower your arms," another HK added.

"Foolishly self revealing statement: So that we could just shoot you and be done with it," another said.

"Angry rebuke: Oh, you just had to mention that, didn't you? No wonder she does not respect us for the finely crafted piece of machinery we are," the lead HK added in what amounted to a snarl to the third HK to speak. "Rhetorical question: Why do you always have to give away our intentions like that? Irritated addition: I mean, it's not as though keeping your vocabulator silent is so difficult. Borderline emotional complaint: All I'm asking is that you don't give away our intentions."

"Hostile response: Oh, sure, lay the blame on me! Smug self praise: I was the one who suggested putting up the flag of truce and asking her to come quietly."

"Expressed loss of control: Oh, both of you shut up and let's just fry these organics!" the second HK spoke again.

"I guess you didn't learn from the last time I dispatched you and your ilk," Valia growled, that deadly glint in her eye. She and Kreia raised their hands and a bolt of lightning shot out, frying the circuits of the first four. The remaining three opened fire only to be downed by Atton's disintegrator.

"I'm getting the feeling whoever built these guys was a little inept," Atton snorted. "They just don't know how to build a good war droid anymore, I guess."

"These guys been following you, General?" Bao-Dur asked.

"This is my second encounter with them," Valia mumbled, picking up a blaster clip.

"You know, we should find out where those guys are being built. Then we can leave some detonators," Atton grumbled.

"Be silent, fool. Locating the Hawk should be our overriding concern," Kreia snapped.

"Whatever, your majesty."

"Guys, we have company. Seems we attracted someone's attention," Bao-Dur said as an even larger group approached. Mercenaries, heavily armed with repeaters, the design clearly Mandalorian.

"Well would you look at this," the head merc gloated, a dark skinned, bearded man with a nasty look in his eyes. "Called up quite a ruckus with them droids there. And you got the Zabrak with you."

"Leave now and I won't kill you," Valia growled. Unlike the previous five she had disabled, she could tell these men were hardened killers. They liked blood.

"Oh, got sum' fire don't you? I'm sure me and my men are gonna enjoy putting it out," the merc growled.

The mercenaries raised their rifles and fired. Valia somersaulted over the first volley and landed behind them, drawing her knives in a lightning quick motion and jamming them into the backs of two of them. Atton leaped backward firing madly, and Kreia Force lifted three of them and tossed them head first into a nearby rock.

Atton was still firing frantically, when he noticed everything was slowing down, the color fading to a strange sepia tone.

_What the hell? _He wondered. But he wasn't one to question for too long. Everything had slowed down, but he was still at a somewhat normal speed. Small blessings. He fired, his eyes tracking the blaster shots as he ducked them. One merc's head came off at the neck from his shots, then two, than six fell to his aim, their bodies jerking in slow motion as the powerful shots blasted him back. He saw another two cut down by Valia, who was moving slightly faster than he was, like she had pumped an alacrity stim into herself, her eyes locked with his during the fight, an eyebrow raised, and then, for the first time since this little nightmare had begun, she nodded approvingly towards him. He noticed Kreia was moving in the same slow motion the mercs were at. Bao-Dur was lifting a merc agonizingly slow over his head with the pike.

The last eight fell to their combined effort and the strange moment ended, the world gaining back its color. Atton doubled over in pain, the strain of what he had just done taxing his body as he violently coughed up some blood. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the ghost of the Jedi Girh Ro Lat shaking his head disapprovingly.

"You should ease up in the future," the ghost suggested before vanishing as he blinked.

"What's wrong with him? Was it the drugs?" Bao-Dur asked.

"No," Valia answered. She helped Atton up. "W-what happened?" he asked, confused.

"You were in my realm," Valia answered simply.

"We should get moving. More could be showing up any minute," Bao-Dur cautioned.

"I'm-not feeling so well," Atton groaned. It wasn't just because of the strain. Seeing or hearing those damned ghosts always stressed him. But he obeyed them, as always.

"Tough. You need to walk it off," Valia ordered, her unsympathetic demeanor appearing once more. She picked up an aratech rifle with a tri-light scope. Grinning maliciously, she slung it over her shoulder.

"So, General, who was your target?" Bao-Dur asked tentatively.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you did say you were an assassin. Assassin's usually have very specific targets. Who was yours?"

"I am curious about this also. I can't imagine that a Shadow would go to war without the approval of her masters," Kreia added.

"What does it matter? That assignment is over. A failure, I might add."

"So what's the harm in telling us?" Bao-Dur asked.

"The less you know, the better. If we encounter Shadows on our journey-and I seriously doubt the Sith managed to thin their ranks-you knowing anything of what I did would put you in danger. I do not want that."

"Is that concern for our well being, I detect, Exile?" Kreia asked almost with a sneer.

"Not personally, no," Valia covered quickly-too quickly-Kreia silently noted. "You are valuable allies. It is becoming increasingly apparent I cannot complete this on my own. Losing one of you would be detrimental."

"I see," Kreia scoffed. "Let us be on our way."

Valia was relieved inwardly. She had thrown the old scow off the subject. She wasn't ready to talk about the terrible things she had done. Atton's instinctive entry into the Zone of Focus made him more of a commodity, and Kreia had begun to prove her worth. Bao-Dur was stronger than she remembered. She recalled that his soft spoken nature had grown on her during the war. If she were to lose anyone, Bao-Dur would be the one she might actually miss.

As they approached a grassy path, Bao-Dur signaled for a stop.

"Mines ahead. Poor quality though, their signals are jammed easily. They started setting these when they first realized I was leaving little 'gifts' behind in their rations." Bao-Dur took out a small transmitter and hit it.

Atton looked at Bao-Dur. "You're...disturbed, you know that?"

"We're all a little disturbed. I just don't mind. You should try it some time," Bao-Dur replied in an oddly soft voice of his.

"Whatever you've caught, I don't want it. Hey, Renn, remind me not to leave him alone around food,"

"I'll be sure too," Valia grunted, herself a bit curious as to the nature of Bao-Dur's mental disturbance.

"Okay, it's safe now," Bao-Dur said when his transmitter gave an all-clear signal. Valia nodded in approval and marched ahead, while Kreia caught up to her.

"What happened to the fool back there?" Kreia asked.

"He entered the Zone of Focus. It is a rare thing for a novice to achieve."

"I have never heard of it. Is it like Force Speed?" Kreia asked, slightly uncomfortable that there was knowledge she did not possess.

"It is a sort of temporarily enlightenment. A realization on an instinctual level that seconds, minutes, hours-don't really matter. You are freed from the trap of time-but only for a while. It is a technique that is far above Force Speed, and usually only attainable through years of intense meditation on the falseness of time. For a first time user like Atton the strain on his body from being pulled free from the transition we normally go through was too much. He'll be quite sick for a few days," Valia explained, inwardly smirking at the thought that she had an advantage over Kreia.

As they walked the path, Bao-Dur again signaled to stop. At least thirty mercenaries were mulling about the camp and on the landing pad was another orbital shuttle.

Valia took out her rifle. "Atton, how are you feeling? Can you fight?"

"With a blaster, sure. I should probably try to avoid a sword fight though," Atton replied, trying to ignore the ghost of the female Jedi who was suggesting that he should sit this one out.

Valia nodded, taking a spot where she could oversee the whole area. "You three go ahead. I will provide cover fire."

Bao-Dur nodded, clutching his pike.

"On my signal...Go!" Valia ordered, going prone.

The three rushed down the clearing. The mercenaries next to the food supply opened fire immediately but three out in front of the eight man group were downed by head shots fired in quick succession. The mercs scrambled for cover as the realized they were being targeted, some firing wildly as they were cut down. Panic set into the mercenaries as they fired at her position, to no avail.

Bao-Dur tossed the pike into the chest of a lightly armored merc. He coughed blood as he collapsed. Another mercenary rushed the Zabrak with a knife, only to have his neck crushed by the tech's mechanical arm.

Atton fired tentatively, trying to make each shot count, momentarily forgetting how ill he was feeling. Kreia unleashed a bolt of purple lightning into the remaining group of mercenaries, ripping their life force from them. They crumpled into a pile.

There was only five left, defending the shuttle pad, three of them firing madly at Valia's position while the remaining two worked the turrets. But Valia was two well concealed. She killed the two turret operators and then finished off the remaining three with head shots.

Valia got up from her position and went down to the group. "Anybody injured?" She asked.

"We're fine, General," Bao-Dur assured. "Let's see what I can do about tracking your ship. The shield network computer is right up there." The Zabrak and Valia strode past the waiting shuttle and accessed the computer.

Bao-Dur's eyes widened. "Strange. I'm picking up an anomaly over the polar region. That's probably where your ship was taken. Any other place would be acidic vapor. Some one's drawing power over this region. Guess we're heading there, next."

"Good work Bao-Dur. Start the shuttle," Valia rasped in an approving manner. She went over to Atton and Kreia.

"Atton, are you feeling alright? Has the strain lessoned?"

"Err, somewhat. My stomach hurts a bit."

"Hmm," Valia mumbled. She reached out and tapped the top of his spinal column with two fingers.

"Hey, the pain's gone!" he exclaimed.

"Temporarily."

"You will have to explain to me how you do that, one of these days," Kreia suggested.

"I have not the years required, nor the desire to indulge you," Valia snidely replied.

Kreia straightened up as Atton left, "So you were awake for that conversation."

"I have ears, Kreia."

"That you do, but you tend to use them only to hear, never to listen," Kreia chided.

"Hey, General! We've got a problem," Bao-Dur called out. "The launch codes for the shuttle aren't in the shuttle."

"Damn!" She spat. "Could they be on one of the mercs?"

"They'd have to be lugging a fairly large datapad around with them, so I'm figuring they put it in the abandoned base. It was pretty well defended. Tight hall ways."

"I swear Kreia, sometimes I think the Force is actively conspiring against me," Valia snorted in frustration.

"You may not be completely off in your statement," Kreia replied.

"Whatever. Grab whatever weapon suits you! We're heading into the base!" Valia ordered, pulling out her tystels.

She hit the switch on the side of the door that had been set deep into the ground. Valia would not have been surprised if this had been one of the few intact structures on Telos.

She was completely unprepared for who was on the other side.

Shishida Baiken stood with that shark like smile on her face, holding out a datapad.

"Now are you glad to see me or what?" she asked.

"You get around, don't you Shishida?" Valia asked in that same formal tone. "You are following me, aren't you?"

"I suppose."

"I guess I'll be taking those launch codes from you," Valia said, her hand reaching out.

Shishida held the pad just out of reach. "Fight you for it."

"I don't have time for this," Valia rasped, muscles tensing.

"And after all the trouble I went through clearing out the base to get these codes, you can't spare a bit of time for me?" Shishida sighed. Fine. I suppose I can always use this pad as a journal or something." Shishida began walking away.

"Shishida!" Valia called out, readying herself. If the woman wanted a fight, so be it. Valia would give her one.

Shishida's muscles tensed in anticipation. "Yes?" she asked sweetly, batting her eyes.

"Very well. Defend yourself. Everyone else stay out of this," Valia said. "Shall we fight on the grass?"

"Sure," Shishida answered, barely hiding her excitement. The pair walked to an area that was free of bodies.

Valia threw her knives and blasters aside, pulling her hands into a pincer shape. Shishida gently placed the datapad on the ground and raised her arms in front of her, her palms open, one foot behind the other.

Valia attacked first, her leg aiming for a kick to the shin, but her opponent was like liquid, and easily sidestepped such an elementary attack, an open palm rushing towards Valia's face. Valia ducked it, grabbed it and put Shishida into a wrist lock.

Shishida grinned, clearly enjoying this as she reversed the wrist lock onto Valia and flipped Valia onto her back.

Shishida bent over. "You need a bit of practice, it seems."

Valia simply snorted and grabbed Shishida's ankle, pulling her leg out from under her. Shishida hit the ground, but rolled out of the way as Valia tried to grab her. Both leapt up and went into their stances for half a second before attacking again. Valia pivoted her body for a sweeping kick to Shishida's midsection-at the exact same time Baiken herself attempted the move. Their kicks caught one another at the hip. Shishida gripped her side, but that smile refused to leave her face. They rushed each other, Valia making a plunging elbow for Shishida's face, only to have it blocked by her opponent and countered with an elbow to Valia's stomach at a dizzying speed. Shishida was noticebly faster and stronger than Valia as she made a blade like motion with her hand, aiming for Valia's ribs. Valia quickly deflected the hand with crossed wrists but Shishida again countered, grabbing the wrists and flipping her again on her back. But where Shishida was stronger and faster, Valia seemingly was immune to pain, and as quickly as she was sent to the ground, she managed to get up with a determination that was reminiscent of a war droid.

She just kept coming back for more, displaying a cunning and agility Shishida could not match easily as she began to evade most of her blows, striking and grappling for joints that would disable Shishida quickly. Combat was almost like a dance between the two as they evaded each other's best strikes. But Shishida's luck finally gave out as Valia's pincer grip gave way to a series of kicks that caught Shishida in the jaw, sending her twisting into the grass, inert.

Valia got closer, hands cautiously in a pincer shape.

And then in a blur, Shishida had Valia in a three pointed headlock, Shishida using Valia's own arm to maintain the hold. Valia struggled, keeping the pressure from Shishida's arm from closing her windpipe as she inwardly cursed herself for falling for Shishida's trick. But then Valia noticed something strange. There was not actually any real pressure on her neck, just enough to keep Valia from escaping.

Their backs turned to the onlookers, Shishida's hair fell across Valia's face as she did something that took the exile completely off guard. Her right arm was keeping Valia's wrapped around her neck while the left was coiled over the other side of her face. The hand attached to that left arm gently stroked Valia's cheek. There was no way it was an accident. It was too deliberate, too slow.

It was a message. Valia knew that her hair was directly next to the Nosferan's nose as she heard Shishida take a deep breath. Valia felt the headlock relax.

And just like that, Shishida let go. "You need to keep your left guard up, Ju-" Shishida stopped herself in time at Valia's stare. "I mean, Valia."

"You're probably right about that. It seems your Crane style has gotton better," Valia grunted, suddenly uncomfortable. "Farewell, Shishida. Perhaps we will run into each other again."

Shishida bowed. "Until next time." With that, Shishida set off for the grassy path they had come out of.

"Who was that, General?" Bao-Dur asked.

"A-acquaintance," Valia answered.

"What's going on with you two? That was the weirdest fight I've ever seen," Atton noted.

"I'm not so sure it was a fight," Valia rasped, stroking the cheek that had been touched. Valia had a confused feel to her aura, the first her would-be instructor had ever sensed. Kreia followed behind Valia up the ramp while Atton and Bao-Dur stripped the bodies of their supplies.

"So?" Kreia pressed, "Who is this person? It is time for answers."

"I told you, it would take too long to explain."

"Of course it will take too long if you never start."

Valia glared at her.

"Can you at least tell me _what _she is? I have never before felt such raw energy in a person's mark on the Force."

"She is Nosferan," Valia answered, deflating as though defeated.

"And that means-?"

"I'm not sure yet. When you are dealing with a Nosferan, it can go either way. They can be your best friend or worst enemy. If they really don't like you, they can drink you," Valia replied, absently fidgeting with her hair.

"Drink-?"

"Your blood. For the Midichlorians. Nosferans think a person's blood hold's the greatest concentration of those frakking bugs so the blood of enemies is highly prized. I saw Nosferans drink their enemies a bunch of times on the rim. It was...unpleasant. There was one that was on Dantooine a decade or so back. Had to kill him."

"It is most curious I have never encountered mention of such creatures in the Jedi Archives."

"They like to lay low. Real low. Many of them like to go into hibernation underground. The really high level ones or the richest clans construct ornate tombs for their slumber. Sometimes they group their tombs together and you get a 'Necropolis'-an undead city. They have a whole moon they converted for such a purpose," Valia replied, her eyes darkening with the memories of her early years.

"Do you have a method for dealing with her should she become hostile?"

"If we've already encountered her twice and she hasn't tried to kill us either time, I seriously doubt she'll try the next time." Valia dismissed with a hint of indignity in her voice.

"That was not what I asked, Exile. I asked if you have a method for dealing with these...creatures."

"And why should I reveal the secrets of my trade to some twisted old schutta like you?" Valia snarled.

"Did you not accept me as your instructor? How am I to teach if I do not know where to start?" Kreia sneered.

Valia thought a moment.

"They are impervious to most conventional weapons. Lightsabers won't be enough to kill one, even with a decapitation. The lightsaber crystal itself will hurt them, but only if they are quite young. As they get older, only shoving the crystal right into the heart will do it. They also get stronger in the absence of daylight. If they really get injured they might try to escape or worse, sink their fangs into you. If they succeed you will die quite painfully."

"How could a species with such disturbing abilities remain undocumented?"

"They are not a species in the way most people think. There really is no home planet they originate from. Nosferans come about in one of two ways. You are either born one, or you must be buried alive in cursed ground, like the swamps of Glygjia on Orisant. It is believed that is how the first of them got created. Nowadays, most are born from couplings among the existing clans. Another thing contributing to their ability to remain undocumented is that they had people on the inside of the Jedi Order silencing whatever was reported about them. There were quite a few Jedi investigators and historians in their pay."

"I see..." Kreia thought a moment, processing the new information she had been given. It was a most disturbing thing she had been told. She hesitated before asking the next question.

"Tell me..." Kreia began, "Revan...was she a Nosferan?"

"Yes. The black armor she obtained during her time with me during the Ukatis Incident when we were both still Padawans is characteristic of her people. The armor itself belonged to Amakusa Shiro. May he burn in the hottest depths of hell," Valia finished, reciting almost involuntarily the condemnation of the very first Nosferan that had been taught to her during childhood.

Kreia paused at the name Shiro.

"Amakusa Shiro was the name of one of the first Jedi," Kreia stated. "I always wondered where she got that armor,"

"I did as well. The Shiro clan would not have allowed such a thing to slip from their hands easily. Revan loved it, as I recall. It was the only thing that gave her comfort during the war...besides Alek," Valia finished somberly.

That split-second crack of what could only be sorrow did not escape Kreia's ears. She had a flash of insight-not to mention a fair amount of surprise and anger. Not at her student, who was clearly still wrestling with the scars of her actions, but at her handlers stupidity.

"You were assigned to kill Revan, weren't you?" Kreia asked, "Even if it meant letting the Republic die?"

A long exhale left Valia.

"Yes." Valia grunted, turning away from Kreia. Her voice held weariness-and regret. "I have said too much. Let us focus on our destination."

"I...appreciate your honesty with me, Exile. I now have something to start from." _Not the least of which is getting my hands around your master's throats for their arrogance, _Kreia thought privately. Valia said nothing, turning to Bao-Dur, who had just finished uploading coordinates into the shuttle.

"We're all ready to go General," Bao-Dur called out. She nodded approvingly.

Valia retrieved her weapons and the four went into the shuttle. "Bao-Dur, your piloting skills are pretty fair, are they not?"

"I keep 'em sharp, General."

"You pilot, then. Atton is not very good at it."

"Hey, at least I avoided the shield wall!" Atton protested.

"Yes, and the situation we endured after was a vast improvement," Valia snapped, snatching the words right out of Kreia's mouth, possibly with the help of their bond.

"Indeed," Kreia hissed as the shuttle lifted off. "But to be fair, I _suppose _we can only expect so much from a man who owes his whole existence to the failure of a reputable prophylactic."

"A what?" Atton asked, scratching his head.

Kreia sighed.

Valia did not know what had happened. One moment she had been working up the courage to compliment Kreia on her masterful insult when the impact had jarred her from the seat. The klaxons had been deafening.

And then she had felt Kreia pulling her out of the wreckage and slapping her face.

"Wake up!" Kreia hissed. "The ones who have attacked us are nearly here!" Her long brown robe was gone.

Valia shook herself out of her stupor and shot up, a fiery gleam of pure rage in her eye.

"Let me guess," Valia started, her low growl not entirely unlike that of some large predator. "It is-"

"It's the damn HK's!" Atton yelled, drawing his blasters and firing.

Kreia unleashed a torrent of lightning but found it had no effect. Nor did Atton's shots.

"Smug statement: We have prepared for you. Your Jedi tricks will not save you this time," the lead HK said.

Valia bellowed, the frustration from the last three hours boiling over as she drew her knives and slammed them viciously into the lead HK's torso, shorting him out before she tore it in half. The other droids fired with what appeared to be genuine panic as Valia charged them, deflecting the blaster bolts with her knives. She shoved her whole hand through the head of the second HK, and decapitated the final one by swiping her knife at it.

Valia stood over the smoking remains that look of rage still in her eye. She soon slowed her breathing and returned to a usual gruff disposition.

She took in her surroundings. A smooth polar plateau. The wreckage of the shuttle still smoked, but it was in no danger of exploding. Bao-Dur was lain out, a cut on his forehead-covered in Kreia's robe to protect him from the cold.

Valia stared at Kreia quizzically, before proceeding to look for some kind of shelter.

She could not believe her luck when she spotted the door. She immediately went over and checked Bao-Dur. It seemed he was only knocked out by the crash. She lifted him up and carried him to the door, while Atton rushed to get the door. It opened to a long steep ramp. She would have to watch her footing. Still carrying him, she proceeded down it, Atton and Kreia following close behind.

In truth, she was not really surprised to find a group of people waiting for her at the entrance of the large dank room she found herself in. Nor was she surprised that they had shock staves at the ready.

She eyed them. Six in all. White haired, pale skinned, dressed in white, and beautiful, Valia noted.

But the sixth one caught her eye, being the youngest. Her stance was less refined than that of the others.

But Valia cared only about the face. It was a face she never expected to see again.

"Arren?" Valia rasped wearily, eye straining to make sure it was not being fooled by the lighting.

The sixth one was taken aback by the name, but called out calmly, "Lay down your weapons, and you shall not be harmed."

Valia gently placed Bao-Dur on the ground-and placed her weapons on top of him. In such close quarters, Bao-Dur would get hurt.

"You may take them," she instructed, letting them know that it wasn't over with her steely tone.

Two of the warriors hoisted the Zabrak away and three escorted Atton and Kreia away. The youngest one was left.

"Please wait while I summon my mistress," she said. She pulled out her com-link.

"Mistress? The Exile is here," she said. There was no reply.

"I was expected?" Valia rasped.

"Please come with me," the young one said. She was escorted up another ramp and past what looked startlingly like a copy of the Jedi Council chamber on Coruscant.

"She will be with you in a moment. Excuse me," the young one said, leaving her on the ramp before a large door.

The doors parted and out stepped a figure from her past. Valia drew in breath sharply at the sight of Atris. She seemed to have changed little from the last time she had seen her.

"I did not expect to see you again, after the day of your sentencing. I expected you to wander around in dishonor along the rim. Yet here you are again, the smell of death about you. Why have you come to this place? More pointedly, why have you returned?"

"You should have some guard rails installed on this ramp. Someone could fall off one of these days," Valia replied in snarky fashion, trying to read the white robed Master's movements. Yet Atris betrayed no reaction to the verbal stab

"Not unless they are incompetent," Atris snapped. "Answer my question. Why have you returned?"

"I was asked. It would surprise someone such as yourself how much can be accomplished by asking. The Republic approached me eight days ago, trying to persuade me to aid them in diplomatic relations with Onderon. On route to it, the ship I was on, the Harbinger, was hijacked by the Sith."

"Ah the Sith! A likely story for the saboteur of Peragus," Atris sneered.

"The Sith did that. Though I admit it was quite tempting to fire on those asteroids. A natural minefield is a beautiful thing when it goes off."

"What of all the innocents on the facility?!" Atris asked

"Dead already. No loss, really," she grumbled, remembering the holovids of the miners who had tried to sell her.

"Do you know what you have done! You've caused the death of twenty other worlds with the debacle at Peragus! Citadel needed the fuel from Peragus to maintain orbit."

"I'll get more fuel."

"Easier said than done. You have not changed, Exile," Atris spat with contempt. "Instead of acknowledging your mistake, you choose to say it can be fixed, denying the truth of what you wrought. Just like Malachor proved." Valia saw icy fury marching up Atris' face, twisting it into something almost inhuman. Her temper had gotten worse over the years.

"Atris-you did not see what I saw. The vision I had-" Painful memories stirred in Valia's chest at the horrible thing she had seen in the future if she did not activate the Mass Shadow Generator.

"I did not believe your vision then and I don't now." Atris almost snarled. "Just like I don't believe your reasons for joining Revan. Just like you have lied about yourself all these years about who you are or where you came from. Defending the Republic! You lusted for war just like her."

It was tempting to be angry at Atris for her black and white view, but instead of that Valia was suddenly overcome by a profound sense of sorrow for her old friend, who had been indoctrinated so fully into Jedi rhetoric that there was no more room for original thought, just thought the Jedi encouraged. Whatever genuine wisdom Valia knew Atris to possess had been dulled by the same awful disease of smug confidence and arrogant superiority complex that ran unchecked through the Jedi Order's most influential.

"You were right suspect my reasons, but you are incorrect about why I actually joined."

"So you admit to an ulterior motive! I knew it!" Atris said, a slight smile nearly creeping up the corners of her mouth. "So you finally admit to your need for combat-"

"I have _always _had a need for combat Atris. I am a warrior. You always chose to overlook that in our youth."

"I should not have!" She spat.

"Even when my way saved your life? Remember what the Ukatis King did to you?"

Atris paled, but only slightly. She soon regained her composure. "That was long time ago. And a petty act of self interest does not excuse your joining Revan or for what you wrought at Malachor!"

"I told you. You were right to suspect my reasons, but you were wrong about the reasons themselves." Valia could hardly believe this was the same woman from their youth. How many times would she have to hammer the truth into that ferrocrete skull of hers?

Valia paused before confessing her greatest error.

"I joined so I could get close enough to kill Revan."

Atris stopped, genuinely taken aback. "What?"

"I was sent there to kill Revan. I joined just to get close-"

"You think to deceive me! Everything you did contradicts this! The battles of Barab, Dxun. The massacre at the Xoxin Plains!" but even as Atris said this, she could read the naked truth of Valia's words. Had she been wrong about her old friend after all?

Atris needed to know more before she could decide one way or another. This bit of information could change everything.

"It was deep cover?"

"Yes," Valia replied, not bothering to attempt to explain the terrible strain of the war as memories of the battles hit her with the force of a hover tank. She recalled how even then, her formerly clear cut beliefs had begun to crack under the sheer horror of the battles.

"Well if you were sent to kill Revan why didn't you!? The safety of the Order would have been served with the death of that one," Atris retorted hatefully.

"How typical of you Atris. You think of nothing except the Order's safety. What of the others you could have saved? Does their safety matter to you?"

"The safety of one would have naturally ensured the safety of everyone else," Atris said.

Valia stared hatefully at this bigot of a Jedi who hid in a cave of ice, meditating on empty teachings as she shut herself away from the Galaxy. No wonder they were nearly extinct.

"There is more to life than the Jedi. Even when I was on assignment I questioned the wisdom of sending me to kill her. You have forgotten that our lives are forfeit by nature. The instant we swore ourselves to a life of poverty and defending others, we knew we could all potentially be called to make that sacrifice. And yet when that time came for us to shed more of our own blood yet again to save everyone else, we shirked them, let them burn. Seeing so many die, seeing the pain I put Revan through, seeing how Jedi at large were mostly indifferent to the suffering the Mandalorian's caused-THAT was what finally convinced me to side with her at the end. And Jedi wonder why so many hate them! Do you remember the hate crimes against the Jedi by the refugees of Serroco? Do you remember how we found Knight Kotebb, gutted like a fish?

"Regrettable incidences, but the Order should not bow to the demands of those who could not fathom our reasons."

"So if somebody fathomed why you do what you do, you would bow to them?"

"I-you are twisting my words! You know that was not what I meant!"

"So what did you mean?"

"There are reasons we do not enter war! It corrupts the Force! It corrupts Jedi! It corrupted you!"

"I was already corrupt. And as I recall, Jedi like to get in plenty of wars. General Xendor, Exar Kun, Onderon royal family, the Krath-"

"Those were different! They had command of the dark side! They-"

"Oh, I see. So because The Mandalorians were not Force Users, you and the Council thought them not worthy of response. Frak, you've lost your way! It did not have to turn out as it did! Surely the whole Council could have kept their eye on Revan. If you had supervised her I would have backed you all."

"We are not warmongers."

"It will be quite entertaining to listen to you tell that to a survivor of Barab or Serreno. But then you don't have to worry about that, do you? Buried under all this ice, I'll be surprised if you have talked to anybody outside of Jedi circles, you bigot. Can't stand the unwashed masses, eh?"

"How-how DARE YOU!" She yelled, losing control. In an instant, she was over to Valia, with a lightsaber pointed at her neck. It was a dull, acid yellow blade.

"Malachor five is where you should have died!" Atris spat. She had no doubts about what to do with Valia now.

"I see your temper has gotton worse," Valia rasped, unworried. "I see you kept my glow stick."

"You-you don't respect anything! Not even your former weapon!"

"I respect common sense. Which you are displaying none of. Do you realize I could disarm you eight different ways the way you are holding the blade? Really, Atris, how long have you known me? You've seen me kill fully trained Dark Jedi unarmed. Are you a fool?"

"Your-sorcerer's ways are no match for the light," Atris snarled savagely. "And my swordsmanship has gotton much better since we dueled in the training room so long ago. I am good enough to end you where you stand."

"Really? Your gripping the glow stick too tightly, your left foot is two inches too far to the right and you are not supposed to be bending your left knee too much. Did you even bother to listen to me the last time I criticized you?" With that, Valia's left hand shot out too quick for the Master's eyes to follow, tapping her wrist with two fingers.

Atris' whole arm went numb and she dropped her weapon as Valia got Atris in a headlock. "Really, Atris, you'd think a Jedi Shadow would be able to improve your combat instruction somewhat."

"Now I know you are lying. The Shadows are a myth. The Order would not resort to assassins."

"Is that so? Poor Atris, you are so gullible even now. Tell me, when they evacuated the relics from Dantooine-and I know you were there because a nitpicker like you would not trust such relics to the unwashed you so despise-tell me, did you come across a strange oval holocron, carmine in color, about the size of your head?"

Atris' silence answered volumes. "What of it?" she finally said.

"Could not open it could you? When you do, say these words to it: Han shot first."

"Let me go!"

Valia instantly let go, picking up her old weapon.

It was a simple, undecorated cylinder. There was none of the etchings or creativity others used in making their hilts.

"I wish to earn the right to carry my glow stick again."

"Become a Jedi? That is a thing far out of reach," Atris spat angrily, still massaging her neck.

"Is it? I cite, for your consideration, Ulic Qel Droma."

"Why should I let a common criminal rejoin our ranks? Besides, the Jedi are not something to embrace out of fear. It is about dedication, something you never understood."

"I was always dedicated."

"You are a killer."

"I'm your only hope. The Sith have been hounding me since Peragus, and I can function as a lightning rod for what remains of the Order. You always looked down on my zest for fighting and war making, but can you ever recall refusing to use me when the opportunity came?"

For once, Atris could not respond. Her eyes suddenly looked downcast, as if in shame.

Then finally her eyes hardened. "If you truly wish to atone for your crimes, your road will be a long one. I cannot promise you will reach the end, or even if it will be enough."

"I would not worry about that, Atris. People like me don't get happy endings," Valia rasped, letting out a sigh at the first reasonable thing she had heard Atris say. "Tell me where to point my blasters."

"I have been seeking the other members of the Jedi Council, but with the threat of the Sith it has been too dangerous for me. If you truly wish to help...take your ship, seek them out."

"I will assemble the remaining Masters or die trying."

"For some reason I doubt the 'die' part...but I shall send you on your way. It is time for you to depart. I will see about your absurd claim to be a Shadow in the meantime."

"Mind what I said about your temper, Atris. You are liable to have it undo you. Likely by a stroke. Have you considered light music as a comfort?" Valia rasped.

Atris did not respond as the doors shut.


	6. Memory

Dantooine, 19 years ago...

Valia settled her travel pack and put it into the footlocker next to her bed.

"Why, hello!"

Valia jumped, wheeling around to face a young blond boy, in his early teens.

"Who're you?" she asked, relaxing only slightly.

"Oh, my apologies, I didn't mean to startle you! I'm Mical!" The padawan held out his hand in a hopeful manner.

Valia hesitated before taking it. "Nice to meet you, kid," she grunted.

"You must be our new bunkmate. There are three others, but they are at training currently. Atris, Belaya, and The X," Mical said. "They should be coming in a few minutes."

"Thanks for telling me. The name is Valia. Valia Renn."

Mical's eyes fell on her black eyepatch. "Suffer an injury recently?" he asked.

Valia grew self-conscious. "One of many. It is permanent."

"Oh...My apologies. I don't see too many of those...injuries. At least ones that severe. May I ask how it happened?" he inquired.

"Another time, perhaps."

"Oh...I see. Have you had any breakfast yet? The eating area is still open," Mical suggested, his face brightening once more at the prospect of showing her around.

"I admit to being hungry. Will you show me where it is?" Valia felt her stomach rumbling.

"Sure, no problem!" Mical replied enthusiastically. "This way, please."

Valia grunted and removed her long brown robe, finding it too heavy. They stepped into the low lit hall way of the sub level, bustling with students. Mical led Valia around some twisting halls until Mical stopped in front of three people. One was pale like the Nosferan she had just seen outside and with similar platinum hair in white robes, the other looked like a rather plain young woman with brown hair, nondescript in appearance, with the standard Jedi attire, while the last was of a humanoid species. His skin was a deep blue, close cut black hair, and his eyes were glowing red. An X-shaped scar figured prominently on his handsome young face and he was missing his right arm.

"Oh! There they are!" Mical said. "Atris, this is our new bunkmate, Valia Renn."

Atris appraised Valia, looking her up and down as Valia bowed. "Hmm. I am Atris, Padawan. I see Kavar chose to test me by adding more to our flock. I am the Bunk Leader. It's my job to make the schedule for those who sleep in all the dormitories. Belaya assists me in the day to day duties of making sure Padawans such as yourself are familiarized with the areas and to make sure you reach your classes on time. I also give instruction on accessing the Archives or use of the Force. The X assists me in the Advanced Instruction classes to use the Lightsaber, so you will want to speak to him soon about its construction-though mind you, he does not say anything," she finished in a rather flat voice.

"I already have training. I also have my own blade." Valia held it up.

The reaction from Atris was greater than any Valia had elicited from the Jedi so far. She could see Atris struggling to figure out how someone as new to the order as she was could have constructed her own blade.

"I-I see. Well, there is no need to begin your instruction immediately, so why don't you eat first and then I will get you situated."

Valia nodded and bowed before letting Mical continue escorting her. "That's incredible," he said. "You already have your own lightsaber? Only Revan and the X have managed to do that!"

"Kid, about the one armed Padawan..." she started to ask.

"Oh, him? Nobody knows his real name and he appears to be mute. All that we know is that he has those sword-scars on his face. That is why everybody, even the Masters, call him X."

"How long has he been here?"

"A couple of years. He was on Coruscant a while back. He's a very good duelist. We're quite lucky to have him as a bunkmate. He even fought Revan to a draw once!"

"Who is Revan?" She had already seen the Nosferan outside but had decided it was worth it to get the general opinion.

"Oh, you'll meet her soon enough. Everybody does. She and Atris have this rivalry going. Don't really understand it, myself. Revan is the Bunk Leader for the dormitories on the other side of the enclave. And here we are," Mical finished, stepping inside the cafeteria.

"They have a bunch of stuff to eat. Meat, fish, vegetables, dessert, occasionally-"

"Do they serve steamed rice?" Valia asked. She did not deserve any of that. She had committed too many evils. The food of the peasant was all she could allow herself as she tried to atone for what she had done and who she had become. She felt it was what the Force itself had asked of her.

"I think so," Mical went over to the line as Padawans were mulling over their selection. Valia followed, her stomach growling.

"Ah. Here it is," Mical said when they were finally within reach of the food. Mical took a medium sized plastic bowl and scooped it full of white rice, handing it to her.

"Thanks, kid. They got tea?"

"At the end, I believe," Mical answered. They left the line and ventured over to the drinking area, where a pot of tea had been simmering for an hour over a heat pad.

"Tastes awful, but it'll wake you up in a hurry. Shall I get you a cup?" he asked.

"That would be fine." A slight smile crept up the corner of her mouth as Mical reached for a plastic cup and poured the tea in, handing it to her. The kid had manners.

"Thanks," she said. They sat on a nearby bench. She took a sip. It tasted awful, but it warmed her, just like tea should.

"So, where you from?" he asked.

"Far off," she answered. She stopped herself. The kid deserved some answer for his politeness, so she answered as truthfully as she could. No need to force her past onto him.

"I mean, I was on Coruscant only a few days ago."

"I love Coruscant!" Mical exclaimed. "Tell, me, did you ever get to see the Senate Rotunda?"

"I wasn't exactly sightseeing," Valia answered. "I was working in a kitchen not two days before."

"But...that would mean you've only just been inducted," Mical whispered. "Wow. The council must have seen something special in you. Constructing your own lightsaber is one thing but constructing it just _after_ you were inducted? Wow." His eye fell on her arm as she raised a fork to her lips. Part of the sleeve fell, and he glimpsed the scar.

"What a terrible wound!" he exclaimed. He stopped himself when he saw a strange look in Valia's eye. It was not a look to scold him, simply a look telling him to drop the subject. "Oh sorry. I tend to be too observant sometimes. I blurt stuff out when I'm not supposed to."

Valia relaxed. "It's okay, kid. You didn't mean anything by it."

She resisted smiling when Mical's face brightened again.

"Thanks. The masters are very critical of me for speaking out of turn." His head lowered a bit.

"Remember: he who knows how to speak, also knows when," Valia replied. "Quote me if you like."

"I'll be sure to," he answered happily. "Hey, she's here!" he gestured behind her

"Who?" Valia asked, turning around. She stopped herself from glowering when she spotted the Nosferan walking toward her with a measured pace with the tall, bald young man in brown and orange robes escorting her.

"Hey Mical," Revan said, sitting down uncomfortably close next to Valia with only a cup of caffa, flicking a few glossy strands of white hair away from her eyes.

"What's up?" Mical asked.

"I wanted to know if Atris remembers the dueling tournament between the Padawans in the next few days. I've been preparing all week for this. Has she worked out whether or not she'll be participating?"

"Atris won't even tell me," Mical answered. "It would be a lot of fun to be in it though, regardless of her decision."

"Well, tell her that I'm waiting and that I'll be holding a spot for her team when or if she's ready," Revan replied. "I'm interested to see how she has improved her Makashi. I can't imagine a tournament without her."

"I'll be sure to. Have a nice day," Mical spoke. He saw Revan's crimson eyes wander over to his companion in calculating fashion, but he refrained from introducing the two. Somehow, he could tell Valia would not have wanted to speak to her.

Revan's eyes hung onto Valia for a second in curiosity, but she soon got up and left.

"Thank you," Valia finally said.

"You're welcome," Mical beamed, glad his instincts had proven him correct.

Valia finished eating and let Mical escort her back to the dorm.

"This _is _interesting. Where could she have been taught?" Atris wondered out loud as she went over Valia's information-what little of it there actually was.

Valia Renn's data pad held only a tantalizing amount of information:

Age: Fourteen(?)

Species: Scans inconsistent. Possibly baseline human, though some genetic markers display commonality with known Miralukan genome types.

Blood type: Scans inconsistent.

Birthplace: Coruscant(?)

Midi-chloral count: 18,500 per cell

Personal notes: Padawan Valia has displayed skill with weapons, possibly a background in warfare. Displays signs of PTSD. Also seems able to create Force bonds rather easily. While normally the Order would not accept someone so old for training, Valia's unique strength in the Force-just under that of Padawan Revan-makes her far too dangerous to be left untrained. She is normally shy so I suggest that every effort be made to make her feel welcome. She has too much promise.

"How could the masters have not sensed her on Coruscant? Surely someone so powerful would have been like a signal flare in the Force," Belaya said.

"I-I don't know. That's why I am so curious. Perhaps she is a cast-off from some group like the Jal-Shey, though I could hardly imagine them letting someone as powerful as her go."

The X had been playing look out in the hall. He saw Valia and Mical coming and rapped his knuckles against the wall of their room.

"Enough. We will discuss this later," Atris said, a determined look on her face. "Whatever her reason, she is a fellow Padawan and I will guide her in our ways to the best of my ability. Let us try to make her feel welcome."

Valia walked into the room to find Atris standing, waiting, a pseudo-friendly expression on her face. Valia noted that Atris was clearly unused to smiling.

Then again, so was Valia.

"I see you have eaten. Well, here is your schedule. I expect you to be up at dawn tomorrow. Your training starts. I am interested to see what you can do, young one."

"Of course, Atris," Valia said, nonchalantly, her voice scratchy.

"Uh, Atris. Revan talked to me again."

Atris' eyes narrowed. "Over?" she asked in a cool fashion.

"I got the impression that she seems to think you are stalling. But I told her you are still mulling it over."

"Good. I want to keep her off her guard. My team may have lost the last two tournaments, but not this year."

"But Atris, how are we supposed to win? Of us, only X has a chance of even fighting Revan to a standstill."

"Our combat drills have been intense lately for a reason, Mical. I have not been resting on my laurels. Valia, you constructed your lightsaber, did you not? Can you fight with it?"

Valia grunted in displeasure at the prospect of having to use the glow stick. "I can hold my own. I have some tricks. I take it we will be in the tournament?"

"Yes. I will have X drill you for a few days. Just how much do you know?"

"Kavar instructed me in the basics of Soresu."

"Good. Come, let us began our tour in earnest," Atris responded. The two began to make their way to the other areas of the sublevel Valia had not had the chance to visit...

The mysterious Padawan known as X was waiting for Valia at dawn the next day as she made her way to the training room. His lightsaber was a gold hilt with a black grip, a gentle curve to it to fit his hand. But it remained hooked to his belt, a training saber in his grip. Valia noted the stance. The young man was a Juyo practitioner.

Of all the styles the Jedi taught, Valia had felt only Soresu and Juyo could be any true threat. Soresu was a funnel into which a deadly number of techniques could be thrown in-a fact that her new masters had forgotten. They didn't even know what they had. Juyo was clearly a half-remembered collection of techniques from the rim which had been bastardized with bits of Djem So and Makashi and more than a fair amount of haphazard thinking. But Juyo, if fully mastered, could very much be a threat to the average sword fighter of the rim. It was a style that was often favored by Jedi with a hidden vicious streak. Unfortunately, it was dying out, disparaged by the masters for the very reasons it was so effective.

Valia would have to watch this one. It was clear The X had talent. The fact the he fought only with one hand spoke of his near mastery. Valia strode into the training room confidently, taking a training saber from off the weapon rack. Atris was standing close by, leaning against the wall of the sparse room, her arms folded.

"I am to supervise the training. I want to see how much you-wait a minute, what have you done to your robe?" Atris demanded angrily.

Valia's long brown robe had been cut off at the bottom. It was now more like a coat that went down to her knees, her calves showing

"I found the robe too cumbersome, so I cut it for more freedom of movement."

"Well, tell me before you do something like that again. I can't have you looking unpreventable in front of the Masters. It makes both of us look bad," Atris grumbled, controlling her temper.

"Forgive me. It will not happen again," Valia apologized. She turned to face The X. His blank expression did not change.

Valia suddenly understood why The X did not speak. He had somehow learned to go into a state of no-mind. He had mastered it too early however. Only an adult could go into the state of no-mind and retain the ability to speak. The no-mind granted him the ability to fight with pure instinct. No wonder he was such a valuable commodity to Atris-and why he would be very hard to fight. Valia wondered if Atris knew of his rare abilities.

"Has X always been mute, Atris?" she asked.

"As long as anybody has known him."

The hum of a lightsaber caught Valia's ear. She stared at the white blade the strange Padawan had produced.

Valia activated her blade. Another white beam shot out. She glanced over it with a look of obvious distaste.

"Is something the matter?" Atris asked.

"No."

"Indeed," Atris said, suddenly suspicious. "This will test your basic skills, don't strain yourself when you attack. Now, attack the X."

Valia went into a Soresu ready stance, and then shot forward with an overhead swing. The X easily parried this attack.

"You are quite quick," Atris nodded approvingly. "Very well, let's see how you defend."

The X thrust his blade at Valia's center, but she parried also and tried to sweep her leg from out under his. The X back flipped to his previous position, guarding.

"What was that?" Atris demanded. "You tried to trip him."

"I was combining defense and offense."

"The point of the lesson is to see whether or not you can defend with the blade. Now I don't know what you were told, but this is just training, not an actual duel, and even then, such things are frowned upon."

"Atris, may I ask who won the last two tournaments?"

Atris glowered. "Revan, of course. She's the best duelist on Dantooine right, now, with Alek and Bandon coming second and third."

"How did she win?"

"She...has employed questionable tactics in the past. Last year, I got kneed in the stomach. She was reprimanded for that, as I recall."

"Then we ourselves must employ questionable methods."

"This tournament is not about proving our superiority! It is about improving our skill against an actual opponent."

"It is clearly too late. If, as you say, Revan has made it about proving superiority, then someone must stand up and make sure that this bad habit does not continue. To do this, Revan and her allies must be humbled."

"By fighting dirty?"

"Yes. If you ever find yourself up against a dark Jedi, do you think he will employ a fair play aspect? No, he will try to kill you."

"Well, I'm not trying to kill Revan."

_Not yet,_ Valia thought. It was obvious Atris did not like Revan. Atris would have to come to terms with that sooner or later however.

"Perhaps not," Valia countered. "But the general idea of defeating your opponent with whatever means necessary remains. Do tournament rules specifically forbid dirty fights?"

"No-not specifically. But it is considered in poor taste."

"We should be prepared to clean our mouths then. Atris, up the difficulty of this training session. Dirty play allowed."

"I-I have a good mind to tell you no. But...you do have a point..."

Valia could see Atris' naked desire to put the Nosferan in her place. While she could sympathize, she knew such victories were ultimately hollow.

"Alright," Atris sighed. "This will be a duel. let us see if you can survive the X's assault for a minute."

The X needed no command to begin. He lunged, and Valia dodged his blade and grabbed him at the wrist, flipping him over onto his back. Atris gaped as Valia plunged the saber downward, but the X was already gone, having regained his footing and thrusting for her neck. Valia parried, but the strength of just the one arm he was using was difficult to overcome.

The X was on the offensive, a series of powerful overhand chops making Valia back up. But on the last blow, their sabers locked. A look of grim determination set into her face as she twisted the saber lock into a parry-and back fisted him in the nose.

The X stumbled backward, blood gushing out. He ignored it in the next second, stopping the bleeding with the Force.

Then, much to Valia's surprise, her opponent _winked _at her. He twirled his blade until it was a fan of light, approaching ever closer.

Valia backed away, guarding as the blade came down with enough strength that it brought her to her knees. It was surprising how much strength he could muster from just the one arm.

Her fist shot forward and hit him in the groin.

The X doubled over in shock, but punched Valia in the face as he backed off, wheezing in pain. Valia wiped the small trickle of blood from her nose and then rushed forward with a series of Djem So swipes. A mediocre style, but useful if employed for the purpose of bullying one's opponent. The X countered, parrying most of her swipes and launching a kick to her face that landed square on her mouth.

White pain swept across Valia's face, but she ignored it like she had learned to ignore the pain since childhood, stumbling back only about five inches before slamming her saber down on his. His knees buckled but he did not fall. Valia nodded, impressed.

Their sabers locked again, and then the duel erupted into a chaotic series of swipes, chops, parries, thrusts. Valia staggered from the blows of the X's legs, while he swooned from multiple blows to the jaw. They bashed their sabers against one another viciously, kneeing each other in the groin and the stomach, their blades missing by centimeters as well as their arms and legs sometimes.

A warning in the Force alerted her to his peaceful, empty expression. He had gone into the no-mind state.

He moved like a blur, after-images of him a testament to his speed. Valia dared not try to strike back and parried faster and faster, trying to overcome his no-mind state. He seemed to rain blows from everywhere, just as she seemed to defend every inch of her with her Soresu. Valia got desperate and launched a kick to his stomach-right as he launched his own.

Pain exploded in her gut as she flew back ward, the air leaving her lungs just as the same thing happened to the X.

Both leaped up rushing towards the other.

The X then deactivated his blade, still running at her. Valia almost panicked, knowing that was a trait of a highly skilled rim lightsaber master.

Valia barely somersaulted in time over the activation of his blade.

_Zato Lightsaber Combat! _She thought. Suppressing a grin for her truly worthy opponent, she wheeled around and swung.

His light saber flickered on just as her blade made contact, but deactivated once he had pushed it away.

She thrusted and his blade came on again, parrying, and turned off just as quickly. He stood calmly, holding out his inactivated hilt to her. Valia made a swipe and the blade came on again, twisting her swipe away from him and deactivated, taking her momentum to his left, where his fist met her jaw.

Valia staggered back, overcoming the urge to laugh. She had not had this much fun in over two years. The X apparently noticed this because he winked at her again and rushed forward.

A clumsy-looking backfist greeted the right side of his head. He flipped over onto his stomach, wheezing in pain, bleeding down the side of his head. But he was a tough one, and he stood up prepared for more.

The two ran towards each other again, their sabers raised...

"That's enough!" Atris called out, panicking, her senses to stop a duel that should have ended fifteen minutes ago finally coming back. "You...have proven yourself, Valia, but be mindful of your feelings. This was meant to improve you, not to boost your ego. The newest among us must especially be wary of pride."

Valia, however, had too much adrenaline in her system to respond to her preaching.

"I understand, Atris." Valia turned to the X, bowing. "You are a formidable opponent."

The X bowed in return, a grin clearly visible under the blood from his nose, now newly flowing.

"Let's get you two cleaned up," Atris instructed, her serene poise returning on the outside, but inwardly shaken by her new charge's effectiveness.

Later, after Valia had been cleaned up by a few kolto patches, and Mical's substantial healing techniques, Valia and Atris had gone outside of the enclave, to the grassy plains where the kath hounds grazed peacefully.

"You were...quite effective, this morning," Atris began, finally intent on getting some answers. "Where did you train?"

"I told you, Kavar instructed me in the basics of Soresu."

"Please, you fought as good as X did! He has been here for years. You have been here only a few days, newly inducted into the Order."

"I...find my training difficult to talk about. There are not many pleasant memories. I can only promise to follow your lead as best I can."

"So you don't want to say anything?"

"I do not wish to. I choose to focus on the now."

"Valia, I am on your side, just so you know. But I shall respect your decision. We shall leave the subject closed for now." Atris put a hand on Valia's arm out of sincere concern, but took it away once she noticed a strange look in Valia's eye.

"Thank you," Valia replied gratefully. The pair walked to a small grove, a stream flowing close by. Valia took in the remains of a ruined building.

"Ancient Jedi used to meditate here," Atris explained. "I have always found it relaxing." Atris took off her long white outer robe and knelt by the stream. Valia hesitated a moment before she removed her dark brown outer robe and knelt beside her.

Valia bunched up the sleeves of her shirt and dipped her hands in the water. Atris was aghast at the lightsaber wounds running up her left arm and what were clearly knife scars on her palms. Valia saw Atris staring and nervously pulled her sleeves back down.

"Who gave you those?" Atris asked, unable to hold back her curiosity any longer.

Valia sighed. "Someone I hate."

"But you must have been so young when they happened!" Atris exclaimed, appalled by the clear amount of brutality her companion had suffered. "How did you stand it?"

"I didn't. But you know we are not this crude matter," Valia replied, some moisture forming in her eye.

Atris then tried to see Valia with the Force. She barely pierced the haze surrounding Valia's aura, but what she saw for no more than an instant terrified her...enticed her...

She was on fire in the Force, and every emanation of her presence was a mixture of sorrow and agony and anger.

The anger was the strongest, it called out to her, as it matched the anger she had always felt at being given away by her father for being such a poor sword fighter. She was a black stain on his family tree, he had told her at the time.

For the split second she was exposed to it, Atris basked in Valia's anger, letting herself be swallowed by it, embracing the sorrow and agony as well, for it was so like her own. She understood Valia now, even if she did not know the exact reasons why.

"Atris?" Valia called out shaking her.

Atris' eyes were closed, and she awoke with eyes that made Valia catch her breath for a second. They were two blue crystals of ice, perfect, gleaming like gems, with the furnace of anger burning just underneath.

Valia found herself liking the furnace. It gave Atris character, in her opinion. Something her immaculate white robes, poise, and the lilac scent from her skin failed to do.

"Yes?" Atris asked, shutting the furnace off in time to regain her composure. She found herself on the grass, with Valia knelt over her. She quickly helped the Echani back up.

"Why did you fall unconscious?"

"I-am unsure," Atris lied, sitting up. "Thank you for catching me."

Valia managed an uneasy grin. "Anytime," she replied, and the two began walking back to the enclave.

Telos, Jedi Academy, present day.

"Where are my allies?" Valia rasped to the young Echani who escorted her out.

"Your allies have not been harmed. They were detained for their safety. The Zabrak has received medical attention. I apologize, but we were warned that you might use treachery."

"Me? Treacherous?" Valia grunted sarcastically before complimenting her escort. "Good thinking."

"The male could have posed some trouble, had he chosen to resist, but he was docile."

"Atton?"

"If that is what you call him. He has had some Echani training. When you were threatened, his mask dropped to a stance we know well."

"May I ask which stance?"

"Ten Tigers, specifically."

"Used by Special Forces the galaxy over. Great," Valia hissed.

"It would be wise to know those you travel with."

"Enough, Echani sister. Take me to my allies."

"Very well." The escort showed her to the irrigation chamber, where Atton and Kreia were behind Force cages. Bao-Dur was out on a med-table, some kolto patches on his wounds. He was still asleep.

"Ah, did you find what you were looking for?"

"If you mean trouble, then yes. This place is inhabited by Atris, a member of the Council."

"This Atris, she did something to you once, something that lingers with you still."

Valia uncomfortably recalled the day in the grove. "She was on the council that exiled me," Valia covered quickly.

"I...see the act has left its mark," Kreia said, uncertainty passing over her wrinkled face for just a second.

"This place...it has the semblance of an academy," Valia hissed in distaste, changing the subject. "Where the hell are the students?"

"I was thinking the same thing, Exile," Kreia replied. "She surrounds herself with those who cannot feel the Force."

"I noticed. Her body guards are force-blind. Probably some mental technique Atris taught 'em."

Valia then stared at Atton, who was slumped against the back of his cage.

"What the hell is wrong with him?"

"He is...resting. It seems the journey has fatigued him."

"Is that so..." Valia did not believe Kreia for a minute. "Hey, wake up!" She barked.

Atton's eyes fluttered. "Huh? Hey, You're back with us. I _almost_ got concerned when those ghost women took you away-"

"Never mind that. What did Kreia do to you?"

Kreia almost froze, unsure of what to do. How had she been found out?

"I am not sure what you are accusing me of, Ex-"

"Liar," Valia spat. "You should be a little more careful, Kreia! His eyes are are dilated! Bloodshot! His aura has been tampered with! Which means you were digging around his skull, you witch! You honestly think I wouldn't know the signs?"

"She-she's blackmailing me!" Atton managed, getting his courage up, pointing an accusing finger. "She dug around in my skull while you were away!

"Now let us not be hasty, Exile-"

Valia deactivated Kreia's cage and grabbed Kreia by the throat, throttling her.

"You got a real poor track record so far, Kreia. I let you get away only once with screwing with_ me._ What makes you think you can screw with other members of our group?"

"I had to find some way to keep him around, he knows his way around the space lanes-"

"ENOUGH!" Valia roared, tossing Kreia to the ground, disgusted by the feeble excuse. "You are never to do this again. I do not approve of blackmail against anybody except our enemies. Atton is not an enemy. Atton, you are free to leave this group as soon as we find a civilized planet. If you even suspect Kreia of snooping through your head, tell me immediately. And if you do this again, Kreia, so help me, I'll gut you alive! Are we clear?!"

Kreia massaged her throat. "Crystal," she gasped.

"Come to think of it, I'll stick around," Atton said. "Someone has to watch the witch for you."

"I'm glad," Valia rasped. She turned around to wake Bao-Dur, but he was already awake.

"Hey General, what's the commotion?"

"Just administering some discipline," Valia answered, watching as Kreia forced herself up. "You got any more of those drugs?"

"Yeah." Bao-Dur tossed her a few black hypos.

Valia approached Kreia with the hypo. "I will not go through the indignity of intoxication again," Kreia said defiantly.

"You have two choices, Kreia. You can have it administered to you now, or you can have it administered to you in a hospital bed where you'll have to be on life support because I removed a few vital organs," Valia growled.

Kreia reluctantly held her arm out.

Valia pounced on the arm, injected the drug and Kreia swooned, blacking out. Valia let the old woman hit the cold deck. "Carry the witch to the Hawk, Bao-Dur."

"Of course General. May I say how sorry I am for failing to evade the rocket attack?"

"The shuttles the Citadel uses are pieces of junk. You have nothing to be sorry for."

Bao-Dur nodded. "I think you gave her too much General. She's gonna be out for a few days. Can I have some fun at her expense?" he asked in a low whisper.

"Good. Let the old cow sleep. And...no, you cannot have fun at her expense."

"As you command, General." With that, he hoisted the old woman over his shoulder, carrying her off.

"There is something seriously wrong with that guy. Was he like that before the war?" Atton asked

"He got weird after Serenno. Buried in a tunnel full of corpses for a week. Liked to play pranks alot. Particularly with captured Mandalorians," Valia answered. "Don't worry, I doubt he was going to do anything REALLY disturbing to her. Just...keep your eye on him."

"Hey, thanks for sticking up for me back there. I was in a real bind, you know?" Atton said. "You know, you aren't so bad after all, Valia."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"So, are we done here?" Atton asked hopefully.

"Not quite, I've agreed to help Atris find the other Jedi."

"Well...not exactly what I wanted to hear...but my blasters are here, if you need them. Besides, I've come to realize if I'm next to you, at least I have a shot at surviving the Sith. So, where to, Fearless Leader?"

"Coruscant. I have to visit some old friends, pick up a few weapons," Valia said, "But first, I need to blow off some steam. I want to see what these Echani women are capable of."

"You do realize Echani fights are without clothing, right?" Atton asked.

"I'm sure you would know all about that, given your training in the art of Ten Tigers."

Atton stammered. "Uh, Ten Tigers?"

"Don't play dumb, One of the Echani women said she saw you drop into the Ten Tigers stance."

'Hey uh, listen, don't tell anyone this, but you'd be amazed at how many fights you can stop just pretending to know that stuff."

"Indeed, and here I thought you were becoming interesting."

"Hey, it doesn't matter. Even if I did know some martial arts, I could never hope to keep up with you. You'd kill me."

"Don't sell yourself short. You already demonstrated ability by going into The Zone of Focus. Do you know how many years it took for me to attain that state? A decade," Valia rasped. "I could give you instruction. I want everybody under my command able to defend themselves."

"I'll think about it," Atton said. "So, you gonna give the ghost women a headache, or not?"

"Sure." She strode forward to a room full of blinking equipment. An Echani sister was adjusting dials and flipping switches.

"I bet Atris surrounded herself with idiots," Valia said. "She will transmit her ignorance to anyone she instructs-along with those who serve her."

The Echani sister glared hatefully. "How dare you speak of our mistress in such a way. You insult our honor."

"Sounds like some fighting words to me. So you frail young punk, you ready to be humbled?"

"I would welcome the chance to instruct you. I have been eager to teach you many principals of combat since you and your ilk have invaded this place."

"You got a training room?"

"Of course, it would be unwise to fight anywhere else."

"Prepare yourself. You will be hungry for no reason in a couple of minutes."

The sister glared again. "If that is your wish. I shall enjoy breaking your pride."

"Tough talk. Do."

The sister huffed and escorted them to a training mat.

"Our first duel shall be without Force or weapons. Fist and feet only."

"I don't need either to beat you."

"You must also remove your clothing."

Valia nodded and began divesting herself of her armor.

Atton gaped when he saw the wounds. She had cuts from lightsabers, knife and blaster wounds, burn marks in some places-all over her body. It was even at that point, still curvy, still feminine, with the steely muscle and rock hard abdomen, the full breasts-but the merc on the Telosian plains had been absolutely right when he had labeled her damaged goods. He noticed the large tattoo partially covered by her white undergarments. It covered her whole chest, a large, highly detailed black scorpion-a masterpiece by any standard. Its claws covered her bosom, and the tail wrapped all the way around her waist. Atton glanced at her back, and saw a number of once beautiful tattoos, now defaced by her many scars, yet obviously very important. He could make out a dragon, a leopard, a jug of some kind, a crane, a monkey, a snake-

Atton turned away from Valia as she stared at him boldly, unable to return the gaze. She snorted and walked to the Echani.

"Begin," the Echani sister instructed.

Valia evaded a blow from the Echani. The sister soon doubled over in pain. Valia had twisted her fist in a really odd way, and when it hit her, it had only been from an inch away, with enough force to fell a man twice her size.

"No way, a One-Inch Punch?" Atton noted. "How'd you do that?"

"It depends a great deal on how much energy you can transfer. It really has a lot to do with leverage. Performed properly, it can break ribs and devastate organs-not that I would waste that much power on this inept fighter here," Valia said. "You need to keep your guard up. Better yet, start by having a guard in the first place. Hell, you need to do a lot of things, like work on your agility, your reflexes, you bend your wrist too much when you swing-"

"I-have other sisters. Ones who could offer you a challenge," the sister gasped.

"Don't bother. If this is the best you have to offer, it would not matter if you brought all six or six thousand of you. I would still be able to beat you all without breaking a sweat. I wasted my time," Valia grumbled, snatching her equipment up and putting her clothing back on quickly. "C'mon, Atton, we're done here."

Atton shrugged and walked off with her.

They came across a room with a workbench, a lab station-and T3 trapped behind a forcefield.

"Ha, how does it feel you little thief? That'll teach you to steal the ship!" Atton smirked.

"Atris stole both the ship and T3, cut him some slack," Valia said, deactivating the forcefield. "Get to the ship, droid."

T3 beeped frantically.

"What about the database? Later. I'll examine it later," Valia dismissed.

T3 beeped mournfully and rolled off.

"Piece of junk," Atton muttered.

The pair walked to the Ebon Hawk, stepping onto the ramp.

"It's gonna feel good, burning sky again," Atton said, stretching his arms.

"I'm just glad this part of our mission is over. It was a debacle from beginning to end," Valia hissed.

The force field deactivated as the Ebon Hawk started her engines. Soon the ship was roaring into the atmosphere.


	7. The Underworld For Jedi

"So, Coruscant, you said?" Atton asked as he punched in the coordinates.

"Yes. Get us out of here," Valia ordered. When the ship was rocketing into hyperspace she left the cockpit, preparing to go over What T3 had taken from Atris' database. What she found surprised her as she had pulled up a small stool. A record of her trial, the last known location of the masters-all of which had been on the Council that had exiled her.

But that could wait. She needed to stock up on some serious weaponry...

"Those are Atris' records you have stolen."

Valia wheeled around, facing the nervous young Echani, the youngest of them.

"What are you doing on our ship?" Valia asked. "It is too late to take you back, rookie."

"I know. I am doing this on behalf of my mistress. I can help you-"

"I saw what your sisters are capable of. To say I was not impressed is a statement made only for your benefit."

"But I can fight-I can shoot-"

"That won't be enough. Yes, you may know how to hold yourself against the average merc, but that pales in comparison to the most elementary Sith. It's not like the training mat-"

"My sisters neglect my training! Because I honor the face of my mother!" the Echani spoke with a passion that caught Valia off guard.

"You should not have depended on your sisters for your training. And you don't look ready to kill-" Valia stopped herself, eyeing the young Echani's body.

Her stance needed improvement, but she wasn't hopeless. Not like her sisters. Valia had been initially fooled by the refinement of the others. It had turned out to be merely the product of practice, not effort. And judging by how she held herself, she was clearly used to fighting and worked hard to attain what skill she could from her incompetent sisters. She still did not look ready to kill.

But still...the risk was worth it. And Valia owed the rookie's mother at least that much.

"If you journey with us, you must be prepared to kill. It will be disgusting, It will horrify you at first-as it should. But you must commit. And you will have to follow my instructions. Do you understand?"

"I do. I will not fail you."

"Don't fail yourself, rookie."

"What the hell?" Atton blurted out as he walked into the main hold, his hand fumbling for his blaster.

"Stay your weapon," Valia ordered. "This one has agreed to come with us."

"How can we trust her?"

"How can you trust me?" Valia asked.

Atton took his hand off his weapon, rolling his eyes. "Good point."

Valia turned to the Echani Handmaiden. "You will occupy a bunk. I'll assign it to you. Wait in the cargo hold for now."

"I shall do as you ask, Exile."

"Call me Valia. That is your first instruction."

"You're being unusually friendly to her," Atton said, a complaint just under his tone.

Valia waved her hand. "It is not friendliness. That one has potential, unlike her half sisters. It is potential I intend to utilize."

"Half sister-?"

"Did you notice the face, or are you blind?"

"Oh, yeah...her face was different. Do you know her?"

"Pardon?"

"You called her Arren, back on Telos."

"I called her Arren because she has the face of her mother, Arren Kae, a Jedi Weapon Master. It was a misunderstanding."

"Oh, I see. Didn't know Jedi were supposed to have kids," Atton replied frowning.

"They are not. At least, not lately. That policy of Jedi not marrying was backed by the Shadows as it isolated you average Jedi better in case said Jedi ever needed to get offed. Arren was a fine Weapon Master, one of the finest the Order had. Her reputation went out the window when it was discovered she had a child. It was like all she had done previously didn't matter," Valia answered, angry at how Arren had simply been kicked out for an act of passion."The Order was foolish to cast that one out. A warrior with a sword will always find a reason to cut with it again. She made her way to Revan during the war. She and her lover, General Yusanis, were my equals in combat."

"General Yusanis was her lover?" Atton said, surprised.

"Who do you think knocked her up in the first place?" Valia asked rhetorically. "You sound like you are familiar with Yusanis."

"Well, I, uh, just heard about him, that's all," Atton replied quickly.

"Huh. So you did." Valia eyed him but decided it would take too much time to get the real answer out of him. "Arren died getting me off Malachor. Pushed me onto a shuttle just as a Mandalorian rocket hit her. I was thankful she was at least not alive when the Generator was activated. I owe Arren."

"I see. We'll reach Coruscant in a few hours, so, try to find something to do until then," Atton yawned, walking back to the cockpit. "Me? I'm gonna get some shut-eye."

Valia walked into the cargo hold to find the Handmaiden practicing her combat arts.

Valia pursed her lips in distaste. The form was all wrong, her back wasn't straight enough, and her hands were not steady, like she was nervous all the time. The foot work was also too slow.

The Handmaiden stopped, when she noticed Valia.

"Oh...welcome Valia. I was merely practicing."

"What's your name, Daughter of Arren?"

"I-my name is not important. Only my purpose is," she said with resolve.

"Nonsense. I don't want to be referring to you as a Handmaiden all throughout the Journey. It's demeaning. Out with it."

"I-I don't believe it's important. You may continue calling me a 'Rookie' if you want."

"Your mother's defiance lives on. Okay, Rookie, show me what you know."

The Rookie disrobed, revealing brown undergarments. There was not an ounce of spare fat on that steely muscle the Echani had.

"Huh, seems your mother's defiance wasn't the only thing you inherited, Rookie," Valia said, taking in the young woman's body. Valia removed her armor.

The Rookie winced when she gazed at Valia's body.

"Let's see if you can take me, Rookie."

The Rookie hardened her gaze and launched a knife hand.

Valia grabbed it-and then found herself flat on her back. The Rookie had reversed it.

Valia lept up. "Good. That was twice as long as your sister lasted, Rookie."

The Rookie rushed forward with a kick, but missed and caught a blow to the side of her head from Valia's fist. But the Rookie did not give up. She leg-swept Valia-who managed to hand stand for a brief second as her legs were thrown out from under her. She landed back on her feet in the exact same spot.

"Good. You're a fighter, alright," Valia said, readying herself.

The Rookie launched into a series of blows aimed at Valia's chest, all of which were blocked. The Rookie grew frustrated as she began to constantly have her momentum exploited as Valia countered with a series of well placed blows to the shoulder. No matter what the Rookie tried though, Valia would reverse it.

At least until the Rookie gave a spin kick that got Valia by surprise. Valia stumbled back, wiping blood from her nose.

She smiled. "I'll say this for you, Rookie, you have spirit."

The Rookie was breathing heavily. She raised her balled fists.

"That's enough for now, Rookie. Your foot work is a little weak, so you need to move faster. Your guard can be totally exploited, so, we'll work on that later." Valia wiped the blood from her nose again, surprised by how much it was still bleeding. "You think you can handle a little action?"

"Of course."

"Good. You are coming with me to Coruscant. When you practice, don't try any of the fancy moves; stick with the ones you know are working. Stick with the basics and I'll work with you from there."

Valia put her armor back on and walked out. As she made her way to the sleeping quarters to get rid of the ringing headache she had, she noticed Bao-Dur fooling around in the med-bay. It was where Kreia was. He was doing some sketches of her inert figure.

"I remember when I was just a boy and my mother took me to see the puppet show. Have you ever been to a puppet show?" Bao-Dur asked in that oh-so-gentle voice as he drew designs for a mechanical puppet of Kreia.

Valia snorted.

_Whatever floats your boat, I guess._

Coruscant, sector J 7 (Formerly Jedi Sector)

The Hawk touched down on an obscure landing pad far out of the way of the traffic lanes based on Valia's directions.

It was morning on Coruscant as Valia, the Rookie, Bao-Dur, Atton, and T3 came off the ship.

"So, what are we doing here, General?" Bao-Dur asked. "Does it involve something illegal? Because illegal things can be kinda fun."

The Rookie and Atton both exchanged glances.

"We're going to The Grip."

"The Grip? What the hell is it?" Atton asked.

"It's a village deep in the Coruscant depths. Populated by Force-users." Valia answered, staring at the Jedi Temple that was just a few kilometers off with both longing and loathing.

"What, like a nest of Jedi?" Atton asked, suddenly nervous.

"Some are, some are not," Valia answered. "This way."

The group sauntered over to a rusty looking turbolift door.

"Don't look too safe, General," Bao-Dur noted. "But then again, what the hell do I care?"

"You'll be fine," Valia assured, hitting the activation pad.

The door creaked open and they began the long trip into Coruscant's depths.

It was dank, it was dark. The light from above barely reached these depths, like they had entered a completely different world from the one above. It was a tight alleyway. Valia could hear dripping from some pipe in the distance.

"Follow me," Valia ordered, taking the first step onto the filthy floor of the alley way, the close walls seemingly closing in on them in this shadowy world.

The group marched down the alley, all keeping eyes on the shadows, expecting something to jump out at them.

Atton felt something going up his back.

"Gah!' he yelled, jumping. He scowled when he realized it was only Bao-Dur using his fingers.

"Sorry. I couldn't resist. All this gloom and doom brings out my playful side. And you are so delightfully jumpy, like a little gizka on stims."

"Don't do that!" he snapped.

Valia paid the two no heed and turned left and came across a door. She knocked on it three times.

A slide in the door opened. Two sulfurous yellow eyes stared out at them.

"Say the password or buzz off," the bass voice growled from behind the door.

"It's a trap," Valia replied easily.

"Huh. Okay, you can come in. You gotta surrender your weapons by the door though. No arguments. Are you expected?"

"No."

"Fine. I'll tell Xahn." The slide shut and the door opened.

It was a hodgepodge of stone huts and scrap metal shacks easily covering an area of three blocks. Men and women of several species dressed in various types of rags, some with yellow eyes and some with a sickly pallor to their face milled about, warming themselves by nearby street fires or doing some practical tasks.

What caught Atton's eye-and made him gape-was that all these people, even the children he spotted, had lightsabers.

"Welcome to the Force sensitive black market," Valia explained, lifting an introductory hand.

"So these guys are all Jedi?" Bao-Dur asked, fascinated. "It reminds me of a roach colony. I like roaches. Crunchy, but with a salty aftertaste, depending on the species."

"Many of them are. Many more are failed Padawans, ex-Sith. Some even used to defend the temple. Dark side witches, light side healers. Pick a discipline, and you will surely find their rejects here," Valia replied, totally caught off guard by Bao-Dur and doing her best to hide it.

"Leave your weapons here," the burly Iktotchi Sith guard said, covered in red and black Sith tattoo's.

The group disarmed at Valia's insistence, and the ex-Sith put them in a rusty bucket next to him.

"What are all these guys doing here?" Atton asked.

"This place was founded as a haven for those looking to escape the Jedi and Sith's endless wars. Many here are veterans from the Exar Kun war and the more recent Civil War. The ones who founded this place were disgusted with both the wasteful luxury of the Order and the violent excesses of the Sith. For this, many of the founders were wanted by both groups for being traitors, others just found themselves here without anywhere else to go. They have developed their own, stand-alone techniques in combat, and a mess of superstitions," Valia finished, walking down the street as a bunch of the villagers eyes turned to meet her. "They sell a number of items that the Jedi would be quick to confiscate, were there any around to protest. When the Temple was abandoned, they sent their own teams in to steal as much as they could before looters or more Jedi could come. I bet Atris was spitting fire over that. As a result, they have a several of the Order's most important holocrons in their possession." Valia stopped at a stone door and banged on it.

"Welcome, Valia. it has been a long time," said a figure completely cowled in a black robe said with a scratchy voice, opening the door, a small smile visible beneath the deep hood.

"Xahn. You look healthy," Valia hissed, grinning fully.

"What happened to your voice?"

"Bomb shrapnel in the neck."

"Figures," Xahn replied, beckoning the group in. "Take a seat. All of you."

Atton spotted the one chair and quickly sat down. Bao-Dur settled on some rumpled rags in a corner, picking at his nose a little. The Rookie sat on the floor on her knees while Valia planted herself on the ground in the lotus position, T3 close by.

"It has gotten bad out there, or so I hear," Xhan stated. "I should have known you would be returning soon. How was your stay on Iga?"

"Not too bad. The village seems to be alright."

"Yes, we are struggling along, as always," Xahn replied in an off-handed manner. "I assume you are here for your equipment."

"Of course. You kept it in condition, right?"

"Yes. I have checked on it now and then, naturally," Xahn hissed. "Do you know where the Nosferan known as Revan has gone?"

"No. I admit, it crossed my mind to go and look for her, but with the Sith chasing me, I just haven't had the time."

"I know what you mean. I've been at my wits end dealing with the Sith. A couple of their assassins were caught snooping around in the temple by one of my men. A few also managed to find this place, even with the Jedi Alchemy we've employed to protect the village. We killed them, but I figure it's only a matter of time before more show up."

"Any more Jedi come here?"

"Only one so far, and she was only looking for protection. We gave it to her. Name's Raya Secura."

Valia jumped up. "Raya survived?! Where is she?"

"We set her up with a spot at the end of the village. She's not here now, she's working as a dancer in a cantina topside. The Rusty Pole, I believe."

"Guess I know where I'm headed next. By the way, you got any 'extra' items?"

Xahn grinned at the question.

"I managed to acquire an interesting relic." Xahn pulled a long iron box from underneath his ramshackle bed. He opened it.

What was inside sparkled.

"What a beautiful weapon!" the Rookie exclaimed.

The sword had a gentle curve to its edge. It was fixed with calligraphy in a language Valia knew beyond a doubt to be a Nosferan tongue on the flat of the sword. Its ornate hilt hugged the bottom of the blade like ivy hugs a wall, with the leather grip so tightly bound to the hilt it seemed to be melded with it. The blade itself was almost white, and polished to a mirror sheen, giving an unnatural glow even in the darkness.

"A genuine Jedi Katana," Xahn explained. "Pulled from a stone in the tomb of the Jedi Shinkage Baiken himself. After thousands of years, it is still sharp enough to punch a hole through a solid wall of durasteel with the lightest of taps."

"Baiken, you say?" Valia said, her interest perked. Nosferan's had a habit for embedding themselves deep into other societies. The design of the single edged blade smacked of Nosferan sensibilities and their notorious metallurgy.

"Yes. We don't know too much about him, though," Xahn replied. "It's yours. You'll need something like this."

Valia gently removed the sword like it was a baby and took its equally beautiful white sheath. For a second she thought she heard a sound like whispers coming from the blade. "Thank you, my friend."

"And here is all of your old equipment," Xahn said, pulling out a large, brown trunk.

Valia took out the dark brown robes and demon mask. Her custom pistols were all black, and seemed to swallow the light around them. There was also her handbook of killing techniques, her holocron and her handcrafted knives.

"Thanks Xahn. You're a true friend," Valia complimented. "Keep safe from the Sith. I have to go and look for Raya."

"If you are planning to go to the Temple also, be careful, some Republic garrisons set up shop there to protect it from looters. Not that there is much left anyway. I heard an admiral by the name of Carth Onasi has confiscated whatever is left. Many of the village elders are growing...irritated with him and his 'investigations'. Watch out for him. He's a slippery one, and there are rumors going around that he knows the Force."

"Thanks for the warning," Valia signalled to the others. "Time to go."

The group left Xahn's home and the Rookie spoke up. "These people are not what I envisioned as Jedi," she said with veiled disgust.

"Rookie, none of these people are Jedi. Not anymore. They are probably better off that way. This endless war has chewed through many on both sides."

"How can you say that? These people here have forsaken their duty to protect the innocent!"

"Rookie, has it occurred to you that maybe all any of them want is to stop fighting? That they just-" Valia found herself losing control but the Rookie was acting like a copy of Atris. Even if she did not intend to be. Valia had learned her lessons too late to make a real difference, but there was still time for the daughter of Arren to be steered onto the right path.

"My mistress would not approve of these people just trying to survive. Especially the Jedi."

"It is precisely because they are just people trying to survive that Atris would hate them. They have removed themselves from the conflict. They are having children and making a living in a community, however hard a life this is, it is still a life. Even I admit to being a little jealous," Valia hissed ruefully. "There is more to life than just having this creed or that, Rookie. Both sides have forgotten this. See that door guard? Judging by his tattoos, he was probably a frontline enforcer. Ask him why he still isn't out there, trying to make people's lives as frakking miserable as the Force will allow him to." Valia pushed the Rookie to the guard. "Ask him!"

Recognizing it as direct order, the Rookie approached the burly Sith.

"Um, excuse me..."

The guard stared at her. "What is it? Speak up."

"I wish to know why you left the Sith."

The guard glared. "May I ask why?"

"Just...because I wish to know."

The guard though a moment before finally answering.

"Spending a month hip deep in bodies on the battlefield can make someone quit anything. Especially if that someone made the bodies," the guard answered thoughtfully. He gestured all around him. "That's how a lot of us ended up here. Ask anybody, including the ex-Jedi. There comes a point where the killing becomes rather pointless. Some of us revile the thought of ever raising a sword against another person now. There, you have your answer. Now leave me be."

The Rookie, shocked by the answer, nevertheless nodded and went back to Valia. "I see what you mean."

Valia nodded approvingly. It was good that Atris' lies were stripped from the girl. If only a little.

"So why are you trying to look for them?" the Rookie asked.

"I hate to admit this, but I must. Jedi are unfortunately still needed. They are an inspiration because they sacrifice themselves for others. That was the only ideal of theirs I really liked. I also suspect one of them of being a Shadow, and I cannot allow them to ever gain a foothold among Jedi ever again, lest they collapse from within."

"A Shadow?"

"Oh, right, you were not around for that conversation." Valia explained it in detail, which left her companion pursing her lips in dismay.

"What you have told me is-disturbing. Why would the Jedi resort to such tactics?"

"It is called thousands of years of the Order's best and brightest defying their masters and making the Galaxy burn. The Shadows were born probably from a feeling of great indignity among some of the more fanatical members of the Jedi. Whenever a Jedi went bad, others would suffer for it. It was from arrogance and anger that the Shadows were born, an unwillingness to have their precious tenets questioned any further. But the first Shadow masters, they too recognized that they were being stonewalled by their teachings. So they would operate in secret, killing the most powerful who were displaying the warning signs. or even those the FEARED would display the signs. The man who shot Ulic Qel Droma dead, Hoggon, was a Shadow, at the behest of Nomi Sunrider, the head Master of the Shadows at the time."

"But-you can't be right! Nomi Sunrider was one of the greatest Jedi who ever lived. From what I read she would never have-"

"Yes she would. She had seen Ulic kill his brother right in front of her so she cut him off from the Force. That she did not kill him right there was because there were at least twelve Jedi around her at the time. She had to let him go. Him training Vima, her daughter, proved to be the last straw."

"But that speech she gave on mercy-"

"That was a speech, designed to hide the truth of her soul," Valia grunted. "Come, it is time to go topside."


	8. Blue Velvet

Coruscant, topside.

Valia finished changing into her gear. These were not the same robes she had worn when going to kill Revan, but they were of similar design. It was a dark brown robe that went down to her knees with a set of dark brown slacks and white tabi boots, all dipped in Norris root extract but also treated with Force-resistant dyes and fibers. Jedi Alchemy had also been employed for a one-way effect. In other words, she could use the Force just fine, but anyone trying to use some of the nastier varieties of Dark Side abilities would find it would have little to no effect. She and the Rookie were in the cargo-hold, the Rookie getting in a few minutes of practice before heading out again.

"Those are not of a Jedi design," the Rookie noted.

"Well, Rookie, that's because they were not made by Jedi. I made these."

"So you admit you are not a Jedi anymore?"

Valia grunted. The Rookie was perceptive.

"Not anymore," she answered.

"Why do you really want to find the Jedi?"

"I told you. They are needed."

"But it does not fit with what you have previously said. You seem to be full of criticism when it comes to them."

"Ah, the Rookie is learning," Valia said, strapping up her boots.

"Is it to harm them? Because if it is, I cannot allow that. I have sworn an oath to protect Jedi."

"Rookie, calm yourself. Killing them is the last thing on my mind. And besides, Rookie, what makes you think you are in a position to allow anything? If I wanted to kill them, you could not stop me."

The Rookie said nothing at this. She knew Valia was right.

"I want to find them because I want to know what the hell happened to me. When I activated The Mass Shadow Generator, I was cut off from The Force. There is a wound inside me."

"A...wound? Like another of your scars?"

"In a way, but it is not a scar that can be viewed with naked eyes. This scar is on an entirely different plain of existence," Valia replied, standing up and flexing.

"I am not sure I understand."

"I am not sure you would want to. I would not wish this kind of wound except maybe on my worst enemy, and even then I would have to be in a pretty bad mood to inflict it."

"Does it...hurt?" the Rookie asked.

"All the time. Imagine your heart being dipped in carbonite every now and then when you are around great amounts of suffering and you will know what I mean."

The Rookie stepped closer. "What did it feel like before?"

"What did what feel like before?"

"The Force. How did it feel?"

"It felt..." Valia trailed off a moment, unsure what to say.

_It was like your stepmother was alive again, when you were using it peacefully, _a thought from the back of her mind stated. Valia's chest began aching at the thought and she winced, remembering all the times she had thought of herself as the blind woman's daughter...before the blind woman had betrayed her.

Valia snapped out of the heartbroken recollection.

"It felt like I was a drop of water returning to the ocean when I was immersed in it," Valia answered, pushing the painful thought back down. "You ready to head out?"

"Yes," the Rookie answered. She removed a collapsed staff from a place in her white robe.

"Sense trouble, eh, Rookie?"

"I prefer to be prepared."

"A good attitude to take. Follow me." Valia walked out of the cargo hold. "Atton! Bao-Dur! We're leaving!"

Atton got up from the seat of the cockpit, putting down the Pazaak deck. Bao-Dur stopped his work on the hyperdrive.

"Coming, your highness!" Atton yelled, striding out of the cockpit to meet Valia at the ramp. Bao-Dur still had his pike.

Atton twirled his blaster. "So, we gonna get this show on the road, or what?"

"If I may ask, General, who is Raya Secura?" Bao-Dur asked as they waited at a shuttle stop.

Valia sighed.

"Raya Secura was a Knight who functioned as a scout under my command during the war. She did all the nasty, crazy jobs the other soldiers would not touch. Her real mission, though, lay in gathering intelligence for me on Revan's actions. She never asked why she was being sent to spy on Revan so I never told her. She had her fingers in a lot of other people's secrets, though."

"I take it that Raya was a Shadow, then?" Bao-Dur continued.

"No she had certainly proven herself worthy of being one however. I was actually grooming her at the time to join, though. I thought she had died at Malachor."

"So she's a deserter?" Atton inquired, distaste evident.

"Likely. Not that I blame her," Valia snorted.

"Do you think she'll help us?" the Rookie asked.

"I don't know. Raya was always pretty independent, even when I was training her_."_

"Whoa, you trained her? How much?" Atton exclaimed.

"Enough to defend herself, if need be."

The shuttle finally arrived and Valia slipped a few credits into the toll booth for all of them. The Neimodian shuttle operator grumbled and gestured for them to get in the back.

The Rusty Pole, Coruscant.

Valia and company stepped into the gaudy bar filled with all manner of dazzling lights and half naked waitresses bringing drinks to tables.

"Wow. Nice," Atton said with a grin. "If this is how the rest of the journey is gonna go, sign me up."

"I could use a little relaxation," Bao-Dur said, also grinning.

"This is so typically male," the Rookie snapped, showing disgust.

"Lighten up, Rookie," Valia rasped, sauntering over to the bar where Atton and Bao-Dur had already snatched a spot.

"Yeah, bring me a Lady from Corellia, extra ice," Atton said to the dark skinned, curly haired bartender.

"I'll have some Echani Scotch," Bao-Dur requested.

Atton nodded, impressed. "You know your liquor, Zabrak."

"I'll have some water," Valia ordered.

"Water? Lady, if you want water, go outside, it's gonna be raining in about an hour," the bartender laughed, looking up from the glass he was cleaning. His mouth dropped in shock.

"Hello, Owen," Valia said formally, bracing herself

Owen Calrissian almost dropped his glass as a smile lit up his face.

"Valia! You one-eyed devil! How you doing?" he said joyously, reaching over the counter and giving her a pat on the shoulder. "I heard you were dead."

Valia breathed a sigh of relief. "Good to know that you are not. So, what is the Order's Weapon Smith doing in a dive like this?"

"Hey, we all gotta be making that money somehow! Don't just stand there, have a seat! Drinks are on me!"

Valia pulled up a stool for both her and the Rookie.

"Oh my goodness," Owen started, taking the Rookie's hand into his own. "You still look lovely after all these years, Arren."

"Owen..." Valia shook her head. "Arren's dead. This is her daughter."

"I see..." Owen sadly placed the Rookie's hand down, smoothing back his curly black hair, straightening his stocky frame. "I see. The rumors were true. Poor woman."

The Rookie struggled to come up with a response, but eventually decided to stay silent.

"Aren't you concerned with hiding from the Sith?" Valia asked. "This place is quite exposed."

"Now if you're starting the conversation with that, I'll have to assume this isn't about catching up," Owen replied with a sigh, going back to cleaning his glass. "Yeah, I heard Jedi were going missing, but I didn't think it would be bad enough for you to show up."

"How have you evaded detection? Xahn didn't mention you back at The Grip."

"I got enough Jedi Alchemy coursing through these walls to blind even the strongest darksider to the presence of any Force sensitives within a ten kilometer radius," Owen answered.

"An absence is just as notable as a presence," Valia warned. "The Grip has much better safety measures. It blends you in instead of removing you completely."

"The grime of that place isn't for me. I'll take my chances," Owen replied. "It's too dangerous out there for me nowadays. I don't want to fight anymore. I've left that Jedi crap behind."

"What about Raya?"

Owen glowered. "Raya put down her lightsaber years ago."

"Owen, how did Raya survive Malachor? Last I heard, she was with the demolition's team down on the surface."

"Raya never went down to the surface. She ditched her team and took off in a shuttle."

"Why?"

"Why do you think? She wasn't ready to die, to hear her tell it."

"So she left her whole team?" Valia asked, perturbed. "Doesn't sound like her."

"That's what I thought at the time, myself. I've never pressed her, though," Owen replied, still absently cleaning the glass. "I heard the Order expelled you."

"They did."

"I always disagreed with that, myself. You were under constraints that were impossible to deal with. If the Council hadn't dragged their butts, the war afterward would never have happened."

Now it was Valia's turn to glower. "I must share at least some of the blame for that."

"What? Why? You were fighting there, right along the rest of us," Owen inquired, curious.

"I wasn't on Revan's side. I was on the side of the Shadows."

Owen blinked. "You're joking right? The Shadows are a myth."

"No they aren't. I was a Shadow. I was sent to kill Revan."

"But-that would have cost us the war! What were you thinking?!" Owen almost yelled, sensing no lie in her words.

"I wasn't."

Owen cleaned his glass furiously. "I shoulda known there was something real funny about you deciding to help Revan. You always were known to do odd jobs for the Council. I guess I shouldn't be surprised you were a turncoat. I bet you that core slime Vrook gave you the go-ahead, didn't he?"

"I can't be sure. No Shadow except a Recruiter knows the identity of another."

"Right, I know the stories," Owen grumbled. "So you were gonna ice Revan even if it meant that the Republic would fall."

"It was a stupid mistake, I admit!" Valia banged her fist on the table. "Things are different."

"And exactly how is that?" Owen asked. "Do you realize because of what you did, Revan turned to the Dark Side? I cannot even begin to fathom how betrayed she must have felt. Now things are making a little bit of sense behind her betrayal of the Republic. Do you know the destruction you brought upon us all?"

"I know that. I've done things, Owen. Terrible things. Things that give me nightmares. I want to fix them. Or at least try."

Owen used his Jedi senses to peer into her mind. She gave him a look just long enough inside her head to show some sincerity.

Owen let out a deep breath.

"I believe you," he said finally. "But wanting to fix things and actually fixing them are two different areas."

"Just give me the opportunity."

"I don't know how I can help you, other than forgiving you," Owen sighed. "What was it you needed help with?"

"I just needed to speak to Raya. The Sith are coming after me, and I want to know if she still has any of her old contacts. Any weapons or armor you kept wouldn't be bad either."

"I think I can spare you something. Mind you though, I don't have much. Keeping a lot of my armor and weapons would have been a tad suspicious, you understand. As for Raya, I think she's still kind of mad at you."

"Let me worry about that," Valia rasped. "When does she dance?"

"Next couple of minutes. So, you need a drink or anything? All I got is the hard stuff."

"I'll take some Alderaanian brandy," Valia hissed. Normally, she would have forbidden herself from consumption of liquor, as it would have allowed her to escape what was going on around her-to fog up the memories of what she had done and become, but even she had to calm her nerves at some point.

"Gotcha." Owen handed her a thick, bubbling glass. "Here she comes."

Valia craned her head to the main stage that had a durasteel pole running through the center. Valia downed her drink in one gulp.

And out from behind a red curtain strode a blue, voluptuous Twilek, her shapely bosom and curvy hips wearing nothing but a rather fetching dancer's outfit as she began a agonizingly enticing dance that resulted in a roar of cheers from the crowd, including Atton, who put two fingers to his mouth and let out a whistle. Bao-Dur forgot he was drinking and just stared open mouthed. He had never seen this spectacle in his sheltered life with his parents on Iridonia.

Valia stiffened. It was indeed her. She hadn't changed at all. She could still faintly see the scars she was doing her best to cover up with blue makeup. Scars Valia had given her during training. Raya was her best student, and had fought very hard to earn that kind of estimation. Incredibly talented, Valia had been certain that Raya would eventually become more powerful than her, and had even taught her the intricacies of her Scorpion fighting style. But Raya had chosen to refuse any further training out of disgust with Valia's increasingly brutal actions during the war. The rejection of her most prized pupil had broken Valia's heart. She quickly snapped out of this, however, when Atton's whistling cut into her thoughts.

Valia smacked Atton upside the head. Hard.

"Ow!" he yelped, clutching the back of his skull. "If the lady wants to dance, then I should get to whistle!"

"Not on my watch," Valia growled.

The dance continued to the music of Bith guitarists until the Twilek's body was slick with sweat. She finished just as the music reached a crescendo.

"Let's give it up for Blue Velvet!" the Neimodian announcer cried. The Twilek bowed to a series of whoops and scribbled holonumbers on dirty pieces of paper thrown her way. She scanned the crowd, smiling seductively.

Until her eyes fell on Valia.

The Twilek struggled to control her shock and promptly left the stage, going out through the curtain.

"Back stage key," Owen said, handing Valia a plastic card with a metal strip. "Good luck."

Raya Secura washed the sweat off her body in the shower, almost frantic to get the imagined blood off of her. Afterward she got out of the shower and violently retched into the sink. She washed her mouth out and grabbed her medication. It was the only stuff that suppressed the flashbacks. The smell of blood and gore that wasn't really there made tears well up in Raya's eyes as she struggled to compose herself.

She struggled up-slowly-and grabbed a long white towl, tying it to her back, while she angrily grabbed a towl for her lekku.

"Blue Velvet?" rasped a familiar voice.

Raya jumped, turning around and saw Valia stood, leaning against the wall of her personal dressing room, her arms folded.

Raya frowned. "You aren't welcome here. I don't want to help, whatever it is. I'm done helping you." Raya said in a low voice that was tinged by anxiety.

"Blue Velvet?" Valia repeated, incredulous.

"It's my stage name," Raya snapped. "Don't tell me you came all this way to make fun of me."

"Hardly. I was just curious," Valia rasped. "You used to be able to fight with the best of them. Why-"

"-am I working as a dancer for this bunch of breast-ogglers?" Raya finished. "You try finding decent work with the Sith hunting you. I also learned the value of credits. Not that you would care."

"You are wrong. I very much do care."

"Oh, stop! I know now that you were always out for yourself. I was just too naive to see it. You were a self-serving schutta, just like Revan."

"You...are right. I was. I'm not anymore."

"Oh, let me see how this next part is gonna play out.'Oh, Raya, I've seen the error of my ways and want to atone.' Is that what you were going to say?"

Valia did not respond.

Raya snorted. "Typical. I knew you haven't changed. Well, guess what, Valia. I don't care. I'm done with war, and I refuse to fight this meaningless conflict only Jedi or Sith care about. I am a killer no more. I've left it all behind me. I'm not going to get myself blown apart or decapitated for something I don't understand."

"Raya, the Sith are after me. They have been hunting me since Peragus. They believe me to be the last Jedi."

"Then they're idiots. Anybody who looks at your track record knows you were never a Jedi. Oh, sure, you had a lightsaber, you wore the robes, you recited the oath, but you were never truly one of us. You were always cold, always ruthless when Master Kavar wasn't looking! But you were too valuable to let go of, weren't you? That's why the Shadows took you in after The Ukatis Incident. And what makes you think I would help you anyway? You didn't care enough about loyalty so why should I?"

"You knew?"

"I knew ever since Dxun. You think I'm an idiot? Nobody but you could possibly take Revan and Malak hand to hand. That was the final straw for me. I gave you my loyalty the whole war, only to find you were never worth it."

The words stung Valia. Her chest ached a little with the accusation, which was completely true.

"You know what really burns me?" Raya asked as she turned away, unable to bear the sight of her as the torment of old battles welled up. "I knew you wanted to quit. But you couldn't do it. You let the war eat you alive." Rage building up at the thought, Raya had to actively suppress the reflex to put her hand in the pincer shape Valia had drilled into her. It would be so easy to attack...to give into the rage the war had instilled in her.

Valia lowered her head in shame. "I did. But I had a duty. At least I thought I did."

"Ah, yes, duty. Glorious duty! What has following your duty ever done but cause you pain? Aren't you sick of it all? How can you keep fighting after you've seen the hypocrisy on both sides?"

"I..." Valia tried, to say, but stopped, her mind drawing blank.

"Don't you think it's time you put down the blasters?" Raya asked.

"But...the Sith..."

"Who cares? Let them win!" Raya shouted. "Let the bastards gain control of the Republic! It was a garbage heap anyway! You know what will happen when the Sith gain control? They're gonna find that that Empire they've been striving to make for Force knows how long won't be worth it. There's too much corruption. It'll collapse under the weight of their own brutality as they struggle to kill each other for more power or a general uprising will do them in. Valia, The Jedi Order was a bad idea. It always has been. As long as there are Jedi, the Sith will always burst forth like a sore from their own ranks. It's time to let them die."

"And what of the galaxy?"

"The galaxy can take care of itself. It will be there, with or without our interference. I have my own life now, even if it is dancing, at least I've left the war behind. I wanted you to stop because you were my friend...my hero. But you couldn't do it," Raya spoke soberly. "You could not put down your weapons long enough to even listen to the suffering you and I were causing in the Force. The suffering you were causing me."

"I-I thought I had to just focus on completing your training. I did not wish to listen because I felt if I validated your protests, you would get soft and end up with a blaster bolt to the back of the head."

"You're lying. You didn't want to listen because it scared you that maybe I was right."

"It was...too late for me." Valia turned around, unable to look at her one-time protege any longer.

"It was too late for both of us," Raya replied bitterly. "So I had to move on. I had to forget the war. I had to forget _you_."

"Are you happy, nowadays?"

"At least I'm not a corpse orbiting Malachor like everyone thinks," Raya answered. "Why are you here?"

"I was wondering if you still had your contacts."

"Why should I help you? Any information I could give you would be like pouring sand into your hands. The one thing I might actually want to impart is wisdom."

"Please, Raya," Valia pleaded. "The few people I actually called friends are still out there. I want to find them before the Sith do. You may not want to fight in the war, but would you really leave people like The X and Mical to the unforgiving jaws of those Sith killers?"

"Valia, you are a killer yourself. And you still don't get what I'm trying to tell you. If you really want to atone, please, stop fighting. It only creates more suffering on both sides. It only prolongs this endless dance between the Big Two."

"You know I can't do that." Valia said. "These new Sith...they aren't like the ones in the Exar Kun war. They are silent. Stealthy. They hunt those who are Force-sensitive and feed off the death they cause. You'll be consigning our friends to death, and pretty much anyone else who can feel the Force. I can stop them, but I need help. If not for me, do it so I can protect _them_."

Raya tried not to focus on the blaster bolts going off in her head. She considered the request.

Mical and the X were friends. Damn good ones, at that.

They should not have to die like so many others would, just because she no longer believed in the cause.

Raya sighed. "I should not be helping you. Where you walk, you leave a trail of bodies in you path. But you are right. I have heard the rumors of these assassin's too. Did you hear about Katarr?"

"No."

"It was a colony on the mid-rim. Populated by Miraluka. One day, all the life on its surface vanished. Sucked dry."

"What weapon could have done that?"

"It was no weapon. It was a man. My contacts have codenamed him Nihilus."

"A man did that?"

"Well...maybe I misspoke. He is no longer really a man, if the reports are true. But I know little more than that. As for Mical...I heard he grew past the age of acceptance and was consigned to a farming planet. He disappeared soon after. As for the X, I heard he was in hiding on Ryloth." Raya reached into a drawer, pulling out a datapad. "This has what intelligence I could dig up in the last few months."

Valia took it. "Thank you, Raya. I won't forget this."

"You can't fight forever, you know," Raya said, getting close to Valia, looking right into her eye. "One of these days you'll learn that the path to peace isn't always through war."

A blue hand clutched Valia's shoulder. Raya's eyes were haunted, tired...and yet seemed to say goodbye.

"One of these days," Raya continued firmly. "You will have to stop creating death wherever you walk."

The pair were thrown down on top of one another as an explosion rocked the building.

"What the hell was that?" Raya yelled as sounds of blaster fire erupted out front and the inevitable screaming began.

Valia grimaced.

"The Sith. They have located us, somehow."

Not only were the blasterbolts in Raya's head louder than ever, but that sick smell of blood and gore that wasn't there wafted up her slim nose once more.

_No...NO! _Her mind screamed. And yet, reluctantly, she knew what she had to do. Uncomfortably, she felt her hand go into that pincer shape again.

Because, after all she suffered, she still wasn't ready to die. Not when barely knowing what living was like.

"Were you followed?" Raya asked, frantically pulling on a set of tight white clothes and boots fashioned out of rancor leather. She grabbed a set of Arkanian heavy pistols and slung them into holsters strapped to her legs.

"I do not think so. But I have been wrong before. Raya, did you keep Natalie?"

Raya reached behind her mirror and pulled out 'Natalie', an Aratech issue short range spread weapon. Its official designation was the KENOB1 Riot Rifle. Raya tossed it to Valia, who cocked its pump-action handle.

"Where's your lightsaber?" Valia asked.

"If there is one thing I took away from you Valia, it is that the glow stick is far from a perfect weapon. I'll be fine," Raya answered, twirling her pistols.

Valia grunted and readied her weapon, venturing out in front.

"Hey, General, what took you so long?" Bao-Dur asked as he crouched behind an over turned table with Atton.

"Sorry. I was having a conversation," Valia took a quick look. The customers and employees had evacuated, likely without much success.

"Well you sure picked a hell of a time, Valia! They showed up a few seconds ago. They got enough blasters with 'em to kill a rancor!" Atton yelled.

"Is Sion with them?"

"You mean Sleeps-with-Vibroblades? I didn't see him."

"Huh. Where's the Rookie?"

"Seems your Echani friend got into the thick of things."

Valia looked over the table.

Three of those oddly dressed Sith Assassins were fighting the Rookie with shock staves-and losing badly as the Rookie parried a blow and sent her staff screaming for an assassin's neck, breaking it on impact, while her left foot shot out and shattered the face of another. The last one pulled a knife and tried to plunge it into her chest only for the Rookie to grab it and reverse the move, slamming it into the Sith's neck. Blood splattered all over her face as her attacker fell.

The Rookie stared down dumbly at the remains of her victims. It was the first time she had ever killed people.

She felt like vomiting.

_Is it always going to be like this? _She wondered.

She almost didn't even notice Owen frantically grabbing her, yelling for her to get down as more Sith entered with blasters, firing on sight at Valia.

Atton blind fired over the table. "If you got a plan, I'd like to hear it."

"My plan? I'll kill them. That's my plan," Valia hissed. She whipped out Natalie and opened fire.

An exposed Sith exploded in blood and his corpse was flung back several yards. Valia grew bold, pulling on her demon mask and leaped over the table, opened fire on the table the Sith had used for cover.

The table cracked in half from the force of the shot, and the two Sith hiding behind it were dead from the armor piercing ammo Natalie used.

Eight Sith fired At Valia, but she leapt into the air, whipping out one of her pistols and firing several black blaster bolts at their heads as she rebounded off of a pillar in the room. She landed and fired Natalie one handed at a group of Sith who had tried to rush her with their shock staves. They were blasted back, screaming in pain.

Two masked Sith somersaulted through a window, armed with lightsabers. Their blood shine blades gleamed against Valia's snarling mask.

Valia raised Natalie and the Sith guarded, figuring it was just a regular blaster rifle.

They gave screams of agony and surprise as the mass of explosive crystalline pellets penetrated their guard. The two were dead before they hit the floor.

The last Sith tried to make a surprise attack, but as he rose from his hiding place, a slim blue hand reached out and tapped the back of the Sith's neck with two fingers.

Raya sighed as her target fell, his heart stopped instantly.

_I've been pulled back in, _she lamented privately.

"Raya! Behind you!" Valia yelled.

Raya turned around just in time to dodge a vibrosword. Her hand went into a pincer shape and she grabbed the Sith's jugular and squeezed, breaking his neck like a twig.

She stared as the Sith jerked in her hands for about a second before letting go, the blaster fire in her head louder than ever.

Ten years ago, the man would not even have managed to get within ten feet of her before she would have dropped him.

She had clearly slipped in her training. It was the price she paid for a chance at a relatively normal life.

"Are they gone?" Atton asked.

"Yeah. For now. We should leave before more come."

"Yeah, about that..." Atton trailed.

"What?" Valia asked, the vocorder in her mask making her voice sound even more menacing than usual.

"From what I can tell, they've sealed off the building," Atton said. "I got a peak out the window before I retreated to the table. They got a Sith heavy gunship waiting for us at the shuttle pad."

"Figures," Valia sighed. "Hey, Owen? You and the Rookie still alive?"

"We're alive," Owen said his teal colored lightsaber active. The Rookie emerged, looking slightly shaken, from behind the counter.

"You okay, Rookie?" Valia asked.

"I am fine. I just need to slow my heart," The handmaiden replied. Her staff was covered in blood. The blood wasn't hers.

"You'd be proud if you'd seen it, Val," Owen said, patting the handmaiden's shoulder. "Moves just like her mother. She surprised and killed five of 'em as they came in."

"I take no pride in killing. Only pride in survival. You did well, Rookie."

"I'm not sure how to take that, coming from you," The handmaiden answered uneasily, she looked revolted by the carnage.

"At least I'm not the Rookie, anymore." Raya said reproachfully. "I see you brought poor Arren's daughter into this."

"Hey, Raya, she chose to come along. I didn't ask her. She had potential, so I decided to show her the ropes."

"All you are showing her is how to create carnage," Raya argued. She glowered at the handmaiden. "You should get out of it while you can. Once you go on this road, it is very hard to step off it."

"Oh, I see Raya. Let us lay down our arms and wait for the bastards to walk all over us!" Valia snapped. "Shall I throw myself over a grenade next?"

"I am not saying we should not defend ourselves. All I'm saying is that we should not lose sight of all the previous acts of bloody violence that led to this. It isn't good that what's left of Arren has to be exposed to this. She deserves better than having her soul stained by this."

"I appreciate your concern, Jedi Secura. But I can make my own decisions. I am sworn to defend the Jedi from the Sith."

"You don't know what you are swearing to defend. All you are defending is a name, without any concept of the history, the tradition, or beliefs behind it."

"I serve the Jedi. I do not question them."

"You will," Raya scoffed.

"If you two are done," Valia grumbled. "I believe we were trying to figure out an exit from this deathtrap?"

"Yes. We should focus on escape," The handmaiden said quickly, suppressing the shiver she got at Raya's last words. "Is there some alternate method out of here?"

"There's a service turbo lift in the back, but it hasn't been used in years," Owen said. "It only goes down three floors though. And it only fit's two."

"Raya and I will venture down it to make sure it's safe," Valia said. "Atton, you try and find some holes in the defenses. Take Bao-Dur's stealth belt."

"I'm on it," Atton said as the Zabrak tossed him the belt. "Wait here." Atton shimmered out of existence as he flicked it on.

"Owen, wait for us. If the lifts bad, we're gonna need you to hit the safety," Raya instructed.

"Got ya," Owen said, already heading to the back.

"What do you want me to do, Valia?" the handmaiden asked.

"You should hide."

"Hide? Arren's daughter shouldn't even be here!" Raya complained.

Valia ignored the Twilek. "Bao-Dur, did you see a terminal anywhere?"

"I spotted one behind the counter."

"Hack it. Turn off the lights below."

"As you command, General," Bao-Dur replied, going behind the terminal.

Valia and Raya went to the back. Owen had called it up and wore a grim expression on his face.

"Damn things jammed," Owen grumbled. "You'll have to find some way down. There's a service ladder for it."

"This day is just getting better and better," Raya sighed, playing with one of her head tails out of anxiousness.

"Quit complaining," Valia barked She went into the lift and pulled out the service panel off its ceiling, climbing into the hole above.


	9. Siege

Sure enough, Valia spotted the service ladder and began to climb it. Raya was two steps below her as they climbed to an open hatch she had spotted.

"I can't believe you involved Arren's daughter in all of this. I can't believe you would even take her as your protégé!" Raya spoke with unbridled fury as she climbed slowly up.

"You really want to have this conversation?" Valia asked, impatient.

"How could you take her, of all people, as your protégé?"

"Her sisters were neglecting her training. She had the most potential of all of them and yet she was being stifled by their flawed methods. I owed Arren too much not to take her in."

"You owed Arren too much to stain her daughter's soul in this manner!" Raya spat bitterly. "But it was always your way, I suppose."

Valia stopped and peered down. "What do you mean?"

"I'm not stupid, Valia-if that even is your real name-I know you want to pass the torch someday. To have what you know not die out. Someone who can grasp what it is you have learned of combat and the Force. And if you can pass on the same awful lesson's you grew up with, why not?"

"Are you psychoanalyzing me?" Valia hissed, now furious herself.

"I'm just saying you don't care how your students learn the lesson."

"If you think that of me, then you never did truly know me." Valia spat, continuing her climb. "I trained you the way I did because I cared about your survival."

"But why couldn't you admit you cared about _me? About the pain you caused me?" _Raya asked, hurt showing.

"At the time, I fooled myself into thinking that caring about your survival and you were the same thing." Valia answered, reaching the open hatch. It was an old vent system. She crawled in and Raya followed into the cramped hatch.

"I-I could not relate to you as anything other than a warrior. It was all I knew. I was a warrior long before I was a Jedi. I thought what was swirling in my head at the time was a bunch of nonsense. I thought I was reforming you. I thought all I had to do was toughen you up. Make you strong for whatever was thrown you way. I see now my methods were...horribly flawed. Instead of teaching you to draw strength from the pain you would receive, I taught you only to the reverse. I...turned you into another me. I am sorry for that."

"It doesn't take a genius to know you were a child soldier. What I wasn't able to dig up was where you were from," Raya replied, stomach lurching a bit as she remembered Valia's brutal hand to hand lessons.

"It is a long story. If you really want to know, I will tell you when we are not being hunted by these assassin's."

"You will, huh?" Raya asked skeptically. "I'll hold you to it."

The pair crawled a bit before Raya said one more thing.

"Don't make the same mistake with Arren's daughter. Don't go twisting her into another you."

Valia could not bring herself to reply.

Atton had been making his way down the hall full of Sith Troopers when the lights winked out.

_Great. Now I gotta be really careful._

Atton hesitantly took a quiet breath as he let the old teachings flow into him.

_You can do it. It's like riding your first speeder bike. You never really forget._

Atton put away his blaster. He needed to be as quiet as possible for this. He pulled out a small knife he kept hidden up his sleeve.

He snuck up on the first Sith trooper and slit his throat. He dragged him away as the blood poured out.

The lights winked on just in time for the Sith to notice an invisible man dragging an already dead comrade out of their sight.

They opened fire at the body, But Atton was no longer holding it, he had rolled out of the way as the Sith fired wildly everywhere.

He grunted. He needed an opening.

Atton took his knife and tossed it at the Sith Captain's head. The young man screamed only a moment before he fell dead.

Atton whipped out his blaster and fired as fast as he could, downing two more before running into another hall way.

His stomach twisted as he saw the bodies of the customers and employees who had failed to escape.

_Yeah, just like the old days. _

A Sith Assassin appeared at the end of the hall, wielding a double blade.

Atton didn't even slow his pace. He fired at the one place he knew would be constantly exposed-the hilt, because that was the one place he knew that would at least be partially exposed for a shot, especially with a double blader.

The Sith gave a cry of surprise as his blades cut off and Atton tackled him, firing into his chest. The Sith gurgled blood and did not move. Atton breathed heavily for a moment before a blaster bolt sang over his head.

Atton rolled over, firing as calmly as possible as the squad that had been following him fired with repeaters.

_Damn rookies. In my day, soldiers still knew how to shoot._

Atton then noticed the world was losing color, fading into that sepia tone as the shots slowed down.

_Yes! _He thought, firing in relief. _I managed to do it again!_

He saw a grate on the ceiling burst slowly open and a dark brown gloved hand stretched out, blind firing at the Sith in slow motion.

He saw Raya drop down. She was at normal speed. Apparently, Valia had taught her how to go into this Zone place as well. Raya gave him a quizzical glance. Was her old master taking in more than one student these days?

Raya put it out of her mind as she began to fire at the remaining Sith, who flopped wildly from her shots, though still at a reduced speed.

Then the color came back into the world again and Atton gripped his stomach, teeth clenching. But it wasn't as bad as it had been before.

Valia dropped down.

"This isn't like you, taking on more than one student," Raya said, gesturing to Atton who stood shakily.

"He's no student," Valia answered. "You go into the Zone again, Atton?"

"Yeah. I don't feel as sick as a Kath Hound though. I'll be okay."

"Wait, he's untrained?" Raya asked. "That's...odd. If he's unskilled, but can go into the Zone of Focus, I'm surprised you are not training him."

"Atton-would not make a good student. He's not interested in this sort of thing anyway. Isn't that right, Atton?"

Atton wearily gave a thumbs up. "A hundred percent correct."

"Besides," Valia said, looking at Raya, "He'd drive me crazy before I could get past the first lessons."

"I don't know," Raya replied, some gentle amusement showing for the first time in her eyes. "He looks like he could be fun."

Atton gave a sheepish grin. "Name's Atton. Nice to meet you. Got a sis-" he stopped when he could feel the look Valia was burning into him through the mask.

Raya gave him a look, already knowing what he had tried to say. "I stand corrected."

"Where are we going, Raya?" Valia asked, un-amused.

"Let's see...this is the hall to the VIP lounge. If we're here, it means that the shuttle dock isn't far off. We're about one floor away from the entrance to this place. Which means that whatever Sith are still here are guarding the areas to the main lounge still."

"Do you think they heard us?"

"Not likely. Building code requires sound proof walls to reduce stress on the structure."

Valia pulled out her comlink. "Bao-Dur!"

"Yes, General?"

"Time to leave. Gather everyone and go through the turbo lift's ceiling and take the service ladder up its shaft. There is an open service hatch at the top.

"How will I know which floor you're on?"

"You'll see an open shaft as you go down wards in the tunnel. Drop down when you see the bodies."

"I shall bring the others at once, General."

"Good, let's make our way down the-" Raya stopped as she spotted the horror marching toward them with a lightsaber in hand.

Darth Sion stared at the three. "I see the Jedi's numbers are not as reduced as I had hoped."

"Well if it isn't Sleeps-with-Vibroblades," Atton grimaced, pulling out his pistol.

"What the hell is that?" Raya asked, disgust curling her upper lip.

"That, old friend, is the bastard who tried to kill me on Peragus," Valia snarled, letting feral rage flow into her. "Kreia stopped me from killing you before, you rotting corpse. I am pleased she is not here to stop me from having my fun with you this time."

"Exile. I see you have come dressed for war," Sion said, his lightsaber activating. "You do not have the strength to kill one such as me."

"Humph. We shall see."

Valia rushed forward and Sion swung with a heavy Djem So chop. He missed as Valia dodged it, sticking a knife into his ribcage and twisting it into his cracked and scarred flesh. Sion merely smiled and backhanded Valia, pulling the knife out.

Powdered blood trickled lightly out of the wound but stopped soon after.

Valia retaliated and kicked Sion in the face, sending him flying back into a wall, She pulled out Natalie and fired point blank.

Sion merely grinned malevolently as he stood up. "Is something the matter Exile? You usual tricks do not seem to be working." He swung his lightsaber in an Ataru stance. Valia leapt in place and tossed a dozen shuriken at him in mid-leap.

Sion smiled like he had only been pinpricked and pulled one out of his eye. "Such amusing toys you use. I shall enjoy tearing you apart." Sion went into a Juyo stance. Valia braced herself and blocked with her cortosis gauntlets. Sion gave a series of vicious chops, driving her back. Valia snarled and unleashed a torrent of Force lighting. It did no good against his already seared flesh.

"Is this the best you can do, Exile? I expected better from a supposed Jedi Shadow. I have always wanted to kill one. You are a disappointment so far," he taunted in his hollow metallic voice.

His taunts stopped as a ball of Force-fire slammed into him. It was like being hit by Mandalorian napalm as the whole of him caught fire.

That was when Sion began to wonder if perhaps he had underestimated her. He thrashed about as the burning pain began to override even his high tolerance. Valia smiled as she watched his rotting flesh char. Even someone like Sion could not fight without skin and muscles to fight with.

Valia pulled her hands into a pincer shape and grabbed a flaming part of his chest, pulling a chunk out unintentionally. She grimaced and grabbed his lightsaber, which he had dropped. She stabbed it into him and ran it up his shoulder, grazing the side of his head as she Force pushed him through the wall.

Sion's flaming body was blasted out of the building onto a docking pad as the rain fell heavily.

"I'm disappointed in you Sion. I thought the 'Lord of Pain' was up for a fight," Valia smirked triumphantly.

Valia's smirk left her face as she watched what should have been his corpse get up.

"This round goes to you, it would seem," Sion said with a terrible smile as chunks of burnt, dead skin fell off. "But I will have my pound of your flesh yet."

Sion then hopped onto a wedge-shaped Sith gunship that appeared. "Take us out of here," he ordered the pilot. "We will regroup and continue our assault."

"We still have some men on the ground, Lord Sion," The pilot protested.

"Leave them. They are of no matter to us," Sion ordered. The gunship took off.

"I-I've never seen anybody take that much from you," Raya whispered, horrified. "What is he? Immortal?"

"No. He just got lucky with the rain, that's all. Another few minutes burning and even he would not have been able to get up." Valia replied.

"I see," Raya said, going over to scan for any troops that might be trying to get to the shuttle pad. She turned to Valia. "How come you never taught me that power?"

"If you had stayed around long enough, I would have." Valia answered.

"Hey, General," Bao-Dur said, dropping down the hatch. Owen and the handmaiden soon followed.

"Just in time," Valia rasped. "We need to leave. Quick." She pulled out her comlink. "T3?"

A series of whoops and beeps answered her. It was chattering excitedly about something called Bas, but Valia had not time to make it out.

"Prep the Hawk and hone in on my signal." Valia ordered.

T3 whistled happily on the other end.

"Okay, time to go." She said, pulling out her blasters. "Raya and I will lead point."

No sooner had Valia finished these words, another door opened that led to the main lounge. A pair of Sith Lords marched out, flanked by troopers and assassins.

Valia and Raya opened fire, coordinating their shots onto the Lords; first, shooting the lightsaber's out of their hand before they could activate them. Atton pulled out his disintegrator and sprayed the right flank of troops with shots that chewed painfully into their torsos Owen acted as a moving shield, deflecting stray shots from the assassin's. He then sensed a warning from the Force. They had five seconds before they were completely surrounded.

Valia sensed it too. Going into the Zone of Focus, she reached into her robe and pulled out the Jedi Katana. It gleamed with deadly promise. A small sound, curiously, seemed to emanate from the blade. Valia listened closely. It was chanting of some kind. It filled her with calm.

Doors in the hatch hissed open and hoards of Assassin's poured through it. A flash of white metal tore through the first of their ranks, bisecting some, beheading others as the place erupted into a firestorm of blaster bolts, Raya covered Valia and fired without pause, almost always hitting her targets in the head or just below it. Bao-Dur managed to grab another Sith Lord who had appeared and caved in his face with a punch from his mechanical arm, grabbing the Sith's lightsaber and clumsily hacking through more assassin's and troopers before they could react. Bao-Dur was surprised when he found it was so easy to use the glowing blade-though he noted it handled more like a tool than a weapon. Atton had taken a Sith for a human shield and was firing at whomever was wearing black and silver. The handmaiden shoved the end of her father's staff right into the head of a trooper who had gotten too close.

Valia and Raya were unstoppable. The two acted like they were sharing the same brain as they constantly protected each other throughout the fight. Raya picked off whatever Valia's sword missed, while Valia cut a bloody swath through her enemies in the Zone of Focus, dodging or deflecting shots back into heads. Raya often picked off enemies who were close to having a shot at the rest of Valia's companions. Uncomfortably, Raya felt no fear. She felt like she was in harmony with the grisly ballet playing out as she gracefully somersaulted out of sword strikes, ducked roaring bolts of red and countered the assassin's Force powers, all the while still shooting in the sepia-toned world.

And then, in a moment of perfect synchronous, Valia and Raya found themselves facing one another, their maneuvers having driven them mere centimeters apart from full contact.

The world around them seemed to have slowed completely; everyone was frozen in place, like a monument of violence.

As Raya gazed up the mask Valia wore, she had a flash of insight as to the nature of the masks expression.

The expression the mask wore was not a snarl. The expression the mask wore was anguish.

"By the Force..." Raya spoke in a low voice. "I never noticed that when I saw you put it on the first time."

Valia said nothing. She pulled Raya close to her, her hand gliding across the Twilek's shoulder nervously. Then, slowly, Valia drew Raya in a hug.

"I'm so _sorry!_" Valia said with a tortured sounding hiss. "I'm sorry I wasn't able to be who you thought I was. And I'm sorry that I turned you into something you shouldn't be. And...I'm sorry that I cannot put my weapons down. Forgive me..._please."_

Raya blinked back tears but nodded, pulling away from Valia's gaze and her arm. She pointed her blaster pistols at the nearest assassin when the world began to move slightly once more.

The last Sith fell in a shower of blaster fire and the ambush was over.

Valia and Raya were exhausted, staying too long in the zone, even when trained to enter it, taxes the body heavily. The handmaiden and Atton were covered in blood and Bao-Dur wore a haunted expression. Owen grimaced, clutching his saber and struggling not to throw up at the horror around them.

"Is everyone all right?" Raya asked, sickened.

"Everyone's alive," Owen said. _But far from all right. _He finished privately.

"Can we go now?" Atton asked the usual complaining undertone or ever ready quip bled out of him.

"Look!" Owen pointed to the Ebon Hawk as it docked on the shuttle pad.

The group raced down a flight of stairs down to the entrance of the building. The ramp was already opened and Valia grimaced when she saw an slightly familiar face covered in rags. Her hair looked greasy and she looked like she had not showered in a while.

Raya's eyes narrowed a bit, trying to place the face. Then her eyes widened.

"Bastila?!" Raya called out. She turned to Valia, "You didn't tell me she was with you."

"She isn't." Valia said. She looked Bastila over. "You look like hell, Shan. Rough nights?"

"Shut up and get on board!" Bastila yelled. "That freak of nature is going to be back with that damn gunship any minute!"

Valia and company scrambled onto the ramp just as more Sith troopers stormed the shuttle pad. Bastila concentrated as the ship lifted off, tearing the whole shuttle pad apart with the Force and sending more than fifty troopers to their deaths screaming as the fell to the city below.


	10. EscapeReturn

No sooner had Valia crawled into the turret seat when an explosion rocked the ship.

"Frak!" Atton yelled as he lifted off. "Looks like Sleeps-with-Vibroblades is back!"

"Damn! We waited too long!" Bastila spat as she belatedly worked the controls. "Did your leader battle him?"

"Yeah! Bastard can't be killed!" Atton said through gritted teeth as the Ebon Hawk climbed into the sky.

"What do you mean he can't be killed?" Bastila yelled over the blaring weapon alarms.

"Our Fearless Leader shot, stabbed, and set the frakker on fire, but he just wouldn't go down!" Atton yelled back.

Bastila swore under her breath. "Is that ship gaining?"

"Yeah, but it wasn't built with a hyperdrive, so we have the advantage," Atton replied as blaster bolts rocked the back section of the ship.

"I highly doubt that," Bastila said uneasily.

"Yeah? You just wait. Hello, hyperspace!" Atton yelled, hitting the Hyperspace activation switch as the Hawk escaped the atmosphere.

There was a power up sound-and then the hyperdrive sputtered in the back.

"Probably just needs to get warmed up," Atton said to himself as he dodged the incoming gunships fire. He waited a few moments before trying again. "Hello, hyperspace!" he said desperately, flicking the switch.

The same sound occurred. A voice behind him made Atton cringe. Kreia had woken up from her drug induced slumber.

"Hello, stupidity," Kreia said as she struggled her way to the cockpit against the rocking of the ship. "If you had been paying attention, fool, you would have noticed that the last shot took out our hyperdrive."

"That's not fair..." Atton trailed in a whisper. "That's not fair! THAT IS NOT FRAKKING FAIR!"

Atton banged his fist into the console in frustration. The Hawk shuddered and its maneuvering thrusters cut. "What did you do?!" Bastila whispered, horrified.

"And with that, the fool reaches new depths of stupidity," Kreia said dryly. "And here I was, thinking he could not sink any lower into the depths of idiocy."

Raya rushed into the cockpit. "Valia said to keep the damn ship steady."

"The fool can't. He almost damaged the maneuvering thrusters. We are adrift," Kreia said before Atton could come up with an excuse. "And just who might you be, by the way? Did this whole ship fill up while I was drugged?" She stared with some surprise at her old student Bastila Shan. Her aura seemed quite different from the brash, arrogant young girl whose eyes she had tried to open once to the greater reality of things. Bastila caught Kreia's gaze and quickly turned away. Kreia thought about saying something, but the fool's incompetence dragged her away from that train of thought.

"Get the damn things online before we get shredded!" Raya yelled as Atton frantically started to flip random switches. The whole console had gone dark.

Kreia sighed and reached out, banging the console. All the lights blinked back on and the Hawk rocketed forward.

"I thought you said I damaged this thing!" he exclaimed.

"Fool, you must be hard of hearing. I said you _almost _damaged it."

The tracking system blinked a warning.

"Snub fighters!" Atton yelled. "Dammit, could it get any worse?"

The tracking system then detected incoming missiles. "Dammit!" Bastila hissed.

"You had to ask, didn't you, fool?" Kreia asked.

Atton then did a barrel roll that threw the old hag out to the floor.

"Don't talk to me while I'm trying to fly," Atton warned.

"You call this flying?" Kreia scathingly replied. "A drunk womprat could pilot this bucket better."

Atton performed a high speed turn and another barrel roll that banged Kreia around the walls of the cockpit.

"Make yourself useful, schutta, and get out of the cockpit."

Kreia dusted herself off as best she was able and left. She ventured out into the main room. She saw the shape of the Twilek, clutching to the holographic generator in the middle of the room, a man smelling of brandy and clutching a lightsaber as he struggled to keep himself steady, and T3 beeping in panicked chirps. She heard the turret firing overhead.

"Wonderful," Kreia hissed unpleasantly. She strode to the turret hatch, irritated at this turn of events.

"Exile," Kreia called upward. "I assume you have a plan for escaping this mess you've made?"

"Kreia, give me a suggestion or leave me be," Valia growled, blowing up another snub fighter.

"I do. Go back to the planet."

"And that will help us how?"

"We cannot go into hyperspace. I sense that our main deflector is also damaged. We must go into the depths. They will pull back, as both their snub fighters are too fast to safely maneuver through Coruscant's buildings and the heavy gunship will not find a docking pad strong enough to hold it in the depths of the planet. They will have to abandon their hunt."

Valia grunted. The old hag was right.

"Tell Atton to take us down," she rasped.

Kreia nodded and headed back to the cockpit. "Fool," she said to Atton. "The Exile has commanded that you take us back down to the planet's depths."

"May I ask why, you old cow?"

"The reasons should be obvious, if you think about it."

Atton thought a moment and his eyes widened. He looked over to Bastila, who nodded, having reached the same conclusion.

"Well, I'll be damned. The hag's right," Atton said.

"I usually am. Now stop wasting time. And try not to crash into anything, fool."

"Whatever, your majesty."

Kreia huffed and steadied her footing as the Hawk maneuvered back to the planet. She gave Bastila a look before leaving the cockpit. Bastila suppressed a shiver. Kreia walked up to the unsteady Twilek.

"Twilek? Have you seen the horned alien?" Kreia asked.

"I think he is in the engine room."

"I see." Kreia then perked, noticing the gait of the Twilek, the way she held herself. The Exile had known this woman once and had more than likely passed on some of her abilities.

"You were the Exile's student, once," Kreia stated. It wasn't really a question.

"Once. Those days are over now."

"I sense great conflict in you, Twilek," Kreia replied with a nasty chuckle before walking off to the engine room.

Bao-Dur was determinedly trying to fix the busted hyper drive when he heard the soft sounds of the old woman's feet.

"Alien, are the repairs nearly complete?"

"No way am I gonna really be able to fix this thing until the Hawk lands. I'm doing all I can just to keep the engine coolant from leaking."

"How long will you need?"

"A day at least."

"Ever the optimist. You assume we have a day," Kreia scoffed, walking away. She headed to the starboard dormitory and knelt down, trying to concentrate on the art of Battle Meditation. Though she was not as proficient with it as Bastila was, she knew enough to save the ship. Besides, from the looks of Bastila's aura, her former student was in no condition to try it, having let the skill atrophy during her time on the run. Kreia immediately focused her attention on the Exile, who rebuffed her just as quickly.

_Exile, if you want to survive, you will acknowledge my will in this matter. Your enemies will be easier to defeat with my influence._

Valia squirmed and looked for an excuse to refuse the old woman, but finally conceded. She felt Kreia's influence spread into her like icy cold fingers around her throat, but giving her strength even as it sapped some of her will. Valia was careful to keep the influence from spreading to the core of her mind, where her true self lay. It was not for one like the old woman to see.

Kreia merely smiled, admiring her student's defiance. She even lent some of her will to the Fool to fly better.

The Hawk made an expert turn away from the snub fighters chasing it and the turret began to pick them off, giant red bolts turning the fighters into pieces of debris and frozen blood. The wedge shaped gunship had been made to carry a battalion of troops and was armed with all manner of weaponry. But it was as slow as Rodian molasses as The Hawk zipped this way and that around its blood red and silver hull. The Gunship was about three times the size of the hawk in height and width but it meant nothing as the Hawk cruised just out of kill range, avoiding its missiles and space mines as it flew. The Hawk then made a a turn and headed straight for the ship.

On the darkened bridge of the hull, Sion grinned. The exile was a brave one, he'd give her that much.

"As soon as that ship is in range, set our front turbo batteries on it. I want that ship destroyed," he ordered an ensign.

"Yes, my lord," the ensign said.

An explosion rocked the bridge as the ensign fired. The Hawk had fired its turbo lasers just as the gunship had.

Though the Hawk's lasers had gone right down the barrels of the gunship's batteries.

Sion was thrown from the seat. Snarling in rage, he gripped the ensign's neck and broke it with his bare hands.

The Hawk flew over the ship, blasting off the sonic cannons on top.

Sion snarled. They had gotten through his barricade. They would soon reach the planet, no doubt flying deep into the cities to escape him. And he could not risk the Republic retaliating if he started destroying buildings to get to them.

Sion frowned as he sent the recall beacon for the ships. He would not have his prize today, it seemed.

The Ebon Hawk descended through the buildings, smoke from its left engine pouring out in a thick black cloud.

Valia descended from the turret, exhausted. She wrested the last of Kreia's will, which had sprouted in her mind like fungal bloom.

Raya was waiting at the bottom. "Nice shooting."

"Thanks."

"Who's the old lady?"

"My...instructor," Valia replied uneasily.

Raya's eyes widened. "Since when have you needed a Master?"

"Since I lost my connection to the Force."

"That explains it. I thought you felt strange. I wasn't sure what the nature of the wound was. You felt...dead inside, when I saw you again."

Valia got close to Raya. "Do I feel dead now?"

Raya tensed, backing off. "Not as much as I thought, but it is always there, just under the surface, like a corpse buried in too shallow ground."

Valia grunted and turned away. "Come with me," she asked. "I could use your help. Owen too."

"I...no," Raya said after some hesitation. "I said I was out of the war. I'm staying out."

"Raya, it's not safe anymore on Coruscant, the Sith have a presence here now."

"Xahn's village has many powerful warriors. And the wards of that place make it difficult to see. I-can't go through with it again. The fighting. The killing. Today was just like the Mandalorian wars. I spent a decade trying to forget, and it was like all the blood just got dumped onto me again. I was right about you. Where you walk, bodies will soon follow behind you. I can't be swept into that carnage again. Valia..." Raya placed a hand on Valia's arm, squeezing gently. "I know why you have to fight, but I can't be part of it again. I'm sorry."

Valia felt the gentle pleading pressure of her old friend's arm. Conflict stirred in her chest.

"I...I would come with you if I could," Valia whispered as gently as possible.

"No, you _wouldn't_," Raya replied, her heart twisting as she said the awful truth. "You are a fighter. You will always fight. You will seek out a reason to." Everything shuddered as the Ebon Hawk landed on a deserted pad. "You could never be at peace throwing your weapons aside."

"You think all this makes me happy?" Valia hissed.

"No. I just said you would never be at peace," Raya said. "You chose your path a long time ago, as sad as it makes me."

"There are so many things I left unsaid between us-"

"So it was with I," Raya answered. "But you said all you needed to say back at the building. It's time for you to move on. Like it is for me." Raya turned and began to walk away.

"Raya-"

The Twilek turned. "Yes?"

"You still have not told me what really happened that day at Malachor."

Raya sighed and waited a moment.

"For a long time, the Force was my ally. It saved my life, comforted me when nothing else could, and sustained me all throughout the war. And then Malachor happened."

"Meaning?"

"I-I had a vision. My whole team was going to be surprised by a team of Mandalorian snipers. The Force whispered to me that I could change their fate-by giving up my own life." Raya's voice grew hoarse.

"I suddenly realized that it was my destiny to die there. The Force meant for me to die there, to save their lives. It-it was so terrifyingly simple. My life-so they could go home to their families," Raya swallowed the rising bile.

"I-got scared. I didn't want to die. I turned away from my destiny as fast as my legs could carry me to the nearest shuttle," Raya finished. "It was all some sadistic game of balance. I could not go through with it. I felt so used. Since then, I have never been able to use the Force as well as I did in the Mandalorian wars."

"It must have hurt, leaving your men behind."

"It was awful! But no matter how much it hurt, I couldn't bring myself to face death," Raya said mournfully. "I...guess I'm not the only one who has loyalty issues. I fought with survivor's guilt for years before Owen found me. We got enough credits and made our way here."

"Why dance?" Valia asked.

"There was good money in it. And such a business is a lot more private than anybody would suspect, even with dozens of eyes staring at you. Besides, I thought the last place a Sith would think of looking is a place like The Rusty Pole. I was wrong." Raya turned away, going to check on Owen.

Valia went to the dormitory where Kreia sat, meditating. "I would thank you for you assistance."

"You may thank me by listening to my council a bit more often," Kreia replied in her annoyingly superior tone. "You have been quite busy, it seems."

"Yeah, I had to gather intelligence and get my real equipment back."

"Ah, and do your assassin robes fit you as snugly as they used to?" Kreia flung the word assassin like it was an indictment. It was.

"Amazing. You aren't even up an hour an already you are lecturing me."

"I was not lecturing you in this case. I merely find it strange that you would take up the robes of your old profession when you so clearly no longer hold any loyalty for them."

"I would discard these robes in a second if I had the time to make an alternative."

"Yes, the title of assassin is a stigma not so easily bearable except for the most cold blooded among us," Kreia agreed. "Your old student...I sense much conflict within her. Over you. Part of her wants to get as far away from you as possible, while the other part would like nothing more than..." Kreia trailed off as if searching the air itself for an answer to what she was trying to describe.

"...to fight alongside you. To make you proud of her," Kreia said, amused by her student's effect on others. "It is interesting that you would train someone as weak as that but then again I suppose I should not be surprised..."

"Over?" Valia growled, an unspoken threat of pain echoing out to her new master if the next words were an insult.

"You have fought much of your life. You have forced yourself to be strong even when tempted by the Jedi code to give up your deadly arts. You have seen much ugliness. Harshness. It does not surprise one such as I that you would seek out someone beautiful, someone who would look up to you and learn from you. Someone who, above all, could overlook your many wounds and appreciate you."

Valia was surprised by Kreia's assessment. She would never admit the old woman was right, but a part of her nagged that the vicious old hag had for once hit it right on the mark.

Valia was silent. When she spoke again her voice had that familiar harshness.

"You will not have this dormitory all to yourself. You will be assigned a bunk."

"Ah, and who would you pair me with? The Alien? Your new pet Echani? Perhaps the Fool if you were trying to give me a stroke in my old age."

"The Alien-I mean, Bao-Dur."

"So I could have those wonderful drugs he produces close by, hmm?"

"It's not that. What happened at Telos was merely disciplinary action for your underhandedness. Bao-Dur does not talk much, so you won't really get annoyed by him."

"I highly doubt that."

"If you are going to complain about the most soft spoken member of this crew I could pair you with Atton. I am interested to see how long it would take for you to crack with his never ending complaints."

"Not very long, I assure you," Kreia snapped. "I suppose the Alien will do, for now. How long before we get underway.?"

"I'd say about a day, at least."

"We cannot stay here too long. I sense our journey is taking us to Dantooine next."

"Indeed? I thought I was in charge of where we go next, not you."

"You are...hesitant to return, aren't you." A smile like that of a wolf stalking a lamb crossed the hags face.

"Dantooine...holds many memories. Not all of them pleasant."

"Such memories rarely are. But we must face them if we are to learn from them and grow strong."

Valia snorted. "I could have had that told to me by any Jedi Master. Where's your originality?"

Kreia sighed. "Sit with me, Exile."

Valia sat down, cross legged.

"You had trouble today, using your old tactics, didn't you?"

"Against Sion, yes. I noticed I really wasn't using my head, just using what had worked before."

"Ah. The trap so many Jedi fall into. You used to be innovative in battle, you would constantly invent new tactics for each opponent you faced, didn't you? Do you remember what it was like, that feeling of overcoming the struggle?"

"I do. I didn't feel it today, though, as I have said."

"It is because, in a way, you have lost that innovation, putting yourself on autopilot. It has worked for those paltry assassins so far, but sooner or later, you will once again encounter an enemy against which you must adapt. Now, meditate with me. I shall guide you down your memories, for only your innovative nature-and the cruelty you must have surely developed alongside it-can be found there."

"Fine, but don't dig too far. I am constantly alert."

"Exile, I am many things, but I am not just going to pry open your memories looking for secrets like I did with the Fool. I'm not a nosy Vrook."

"Hmm. We'll see."

"This meditation is called flow walking. It allows you to dive into your past, but an experienced teacher must be there to guide you initially. Now, I must ask, of which memory do we have the best chance of locating your innovation?"

"I had been thinking, lately, of the time I came to Dantooine. It was there I began to refine my techniques. I found I was able to focus better, after reminiscing."

"Was that not also where you first encountered Revan?"

Valia glowered. "Don't remind me."

"Too late." Kreia snapped. "Now, close your eyes and focus on my voice..."


	11. Memoriam

Valia tried to shake off a number of disturbing feelings she had gotten from her brief look into the Echani's eyes. Atris had certainly been less stoic after what had happened. In fact, Atris seemed to be treating her less like her responsibility and more like a companion.

Valia turned an eye to Atris for a quick second as they walked through the Grove. It was obvious Atris knew something and had lied, for her own good...or perhaps Valia's.

There was...a brightness to Atris' face. It was a brightness one only got from strong anger.

Valia found herself wishing that Atris could have stayed angry for just a bit longer. Valia had found the strong emotion in her companions eyes interesting. It was not a dull, default anger, like the anger that results for getting a failing grade in some class, or stepping on a nail. This was an anger one gets to stay alive, to fight through obstacles. To fight until the battle is won. It was anger that really gave her character. It was anger that gave her a heedless drive. Atris had a lot of it. Much like Valia did, but Valia knew Atris was forbidden to utilize it or even acknowledge it, and kept it sealed away to satisfy some teaching of her master, cutting off perhaps the most remarkable part of her Too bad. Valia had also been making note of Atris' stance. It had immediately become apparent, based on her own experience that Atris was no Makashi user. She was lying to herself that she could be a graceful swordsman. To be a Makashi user, one must have that certain grace to them, a poise that came with a special sort of confidence. Atris was none of these things, clearly. Djem So, as lacking as it was, would be perfect for her. Ataru also, but she figured Atris would not listen were Valia to suggest it. She had clearly been biased to Makashi from her masters, who had sensed the same anger Valia had and had tried to stamp it out, marring and tarnishing the piece of Atris' soul that they had selfishly deemed inconvenient for their purposes, in the process dooming her to flawed swordsmanship. Makashi was of almost no use to an angry practitioner, as it takes the finesse required to use it out of the style. Atris had too much aggression in her to ever master it.

Atris then stopped walking having spotted a group people next to a bridge crossing the stream. Valia frowned as she spotted the Nosferan, groaning inwardly.

"Great," Atris sighed. "Revan."

"Perhaps we can take another path, if you do not wish to talk to her."

"No, this is the quickest way to the enclave. I can stomach her for a few moments." Atris replied. "Let's just try and ignore them as we pass. Maybe Revan will be content not being the center of attention for once."

Valia agreed. She didn't want to talk to the Nosferan, either, not just because that she generally disliked most of her people, but also because this one seemed...unusually powerful. Frighteningly so. Valia felt the galaxy didn't need any more powerful Nosferans. And while Valia was confident she could mop the floor with Revan if it came down to it, she wasn't so arrogant as to think she would not have a difficult battle on her hands. Valia immediately began preparing scenario's for dealing with this girl in the most efficiant, dirty manner possible.

The pair walked up to the bridge, trying to be innocuous as possible, and miserably failing as the tall, bald Padawan spotted them anyway. "Hey Atris!" Alek called out, grinning.

Valia watched Atris suppress a shudder, clearly not appreciating the boys sense of social goodwill. She clearly did not like him at all. "Yes, Alek?" she answered wearily.

"Me and the others were practicing. Would you and your friend like to help? We were kinda getting lonely over here." His face made a mock pleading expression and the others in his group laughed at his joke.

"We have to get back to the Enclave," Atris responded flatly. Valia could tell Atris was again having trouble with the furnace in her soul.

"Oh, please. I know classes don't began for another hour! You can spare some time, can't you?" he asked, practically begging.

Atris sighed. As much as she disliked Revan and this giant club of a man, she was too much of a Jedi to refuse the request. To do otherwise would have been frightfully rude. "Let's get this over with," Atris said under her breath, gritting her teeth. Valia saw the furnace in her eyes for just a second, but Atris shut it immediately, getting back her Jedi composure. The two walked to the group. Atris spotted Revan's newest admirer, the diminutive young Bastila Shan, barely more than a youngling practicing with her training saber, looking awkward. There was also Cariaga Sin, incredibly beautiful as always, her bronze skin and vermillion red hair as noticeable as the bright green robes she was known for wearing.

"Hello, Atris," Revan, the pale Nosferan said, shutting off her green lightsaber and clipping it to the belt of her scarlet robes, it's hilt having a more intriguingly pronounced curve to it than the X's. "And who is your friend here? I believe we met in the cafeteria yesterday," Revan held out her hand to Valia.

Valia did not take it. She merely stared with her good eye. Atris covertly elbowed her, urging her to at least respond.

"Valia Renn," she grunted finally. Revan withdrew her hand, perturbed. Usually her politeness ellicited a friendly reaction. Not so with this one-eyed padawan. Still, Revan was not one to give up so easily. This Valia fascinated her.

"Transferred to Dantooine, did you not? Where from?" Revan asked, turning on her charm, trying to prompt Valia out of her silence

"Far off," Valia answered vaguely.

Revan paused as she saw a strange, dangerous gaze enter Valia's eye. The look of a Maalraas before it pounces on a Cannock.

Atris quickly stepped in and put a hand on Valia's shoulder. "Forgive Valia's defensiveness. She's been newly inducted into the order and is having trouble fitting in.

"Oh. That must explain why she is so...tense, then," Revan replied, instantly relieved, though the back of her mind was telling her that it wasn't the whole story.

"No, it doesn't," Valia spoke up, her gaze narrowing right into Revan's eyes.

Alek laughed heartily. This one had spirit. "Ahh, she's just yanking your chain, Revan! I'm sure she's just nervous about being here! Isn't that right?" he asked Valia, given his friendliest grin in an attempt to crack her shell.

"No, it isn't," Valia said in a deadpan voice. She knew deception when she saw it. Revan's body did not at all look like it was focused on training. It was too relaxed. Too casual. And on top of that they had no training gear to speak of.

Valia suddenly realized why.

Revan had been waiting for her to show up. Obviously Valia had not done enough to avoid the Nosferan's abominable curiosity.

"I am not that interesting to talk to. There is nothing special about me," Valia said simply, watching the Nosferan go rigid at having her intention's discovered.

Revan tried to smooth the situation over. "What do you mean?"

"You were disappointed that Mical did not introduce us yesterday, so you decided to rig this encounter under the guise of 'practice'. But I really am not that interesting," Valia replied calmly.

Revan was shocked, though she masked it well...and even more interested than ever. She had not expected her intentions to be seen through that quickly, and it fascinated her all the more.

"That...is quite an accusation to make, Padawan," Revan slowly replied.

"Indeed it is," Valia replied, folding her arms, her tone growing more heated. "But it is also true."

"Whoa! Easy! There's no need for insults," Alek, said, getting defensive. "All we were doing is saying hello." His face wore a hurt expression.

"Well, you were, at least," Valia replied

"Uh, my new bunk mate speaks out of turn. She has had a long night and it's just taking time for her to adjust," Atris said quickly, starting to pull Valia back. Valia looked and saw silent pride on her face, pride that her friend had that kind of nerve to stand up to them. "We really should be going."

"Not so fast Atris. Your friend here can obviously talk, but can she walk also, or is this simply empty bravado?" Alek asked. Offended as he was, he liked it when people challenged him and Revan, as most were simply gawking admirers or just intimidated by the pair. A few fights now and then made life interesting on this farm world. He wanted to see what this disagreeable young woman was capable of.

"Are you proposing something, Alek?" Revan asked, smiling slightly.

"I'm proposing that One-Eye here puts her credits where her mouth is."

"Now, Alek, it would not be fair. She has only been with the Order a few days," Atris said defensively, not wanting to give away Valia's skill, which had proven to be considerable. She knew Valia would make a fool of Alek, possibly injure him savagely, but having Revan and Alek upset at them afterward was the last thing she needed.

"I agree, Alek," Revan said half heartedly, idly waving a hand. From the moment she had finally gotten a good look at the Padawan while she stood with Atris, she knew that Valia had more proficiency than Atris would have her believe. The girl had the air of a sword fighter about her. And besides that, the one-eyed young woman looked...quite dangerous. Revan knew a lightsaber scar when she saw it, saw how Valia was trying to hide the others and her missing eye spoke lengths to what she had already endured.

Revan liked to test potential in others, just as her master did. It wasn't out of some dark purpose, Revan was just naturally wanted an answer to a question. Valia was many open questions. She wished she could see how Alek would fair but now was not the time for such things.

"I just want to see what she's learned so far. Maybe I could give her some pointers," Alek replied, activating his unusually long lightsaber, a bar of blue lightning. "So, how about it, Padawan?" he smiled at her. "I'll go easy on you, I promise. What do you say?" he asked with a disarming smile

"I say you are holding your right foot too far forward," Valia replied, walking away from the group, making Atris catch up to her.

"What was that back there?! You just verbally emasculated the most powerful students in the Order!" Atris hissed as she caught up to her. Though she was very proud of her new friend for what she had done, it was not a small thing. It worried her greatly.

"You should be thanking me, Atris. I have just made myself a target," Valia replied without looking.

"But nobody just insults Revan and Alek like that! Most of the students can't get enough of the two."

"But Atris, I have done something very important to winning the tournament."

Atris sighed. "How is that?"

"You yourself say they are adored around here. They will be distracted at how I have insulted them and while I was standing there, talking, I made note of flaws in Revan's swordsmanship."

"Flaws? What flaws? Even Vrook admits he cannot keep up with her."

"She is cocky, for one. That cockiness will come back to haunt her when she meets someone she cannot easily finish. Two, I managed to get a look at how she swung her lightsaber. I suspect she favors Makashi too much."

Atris raised an eyebrow. "But whenever she was tested in the other styles she performed exceptionally."

"She likes to show off. Makashi has exceptionally flashy movements. She favors showmanship."

"And what was all that about Alek keeping his foot two inches behind him?"

"I...am not certain. The way he was standing just seemed...wrong. I believe it may be a flaw in his Djem So stance."

Atris rubbed the bridge of her nose in contemplation.

"Revan also seems to be hiding an injury," Valia continued.

"Really? Where would this supposed injury be?"

"The third and forth ribs, by the looks of it. On the right."

"And how were you able to spot this?"

"Did you doubt my skill when fighting the X?"

"No."

"Then please do not doubt it now."

The pair continued walking, neither of them willing to break the silence. Atris admitted to being somewhat frightened by Valia's keen senses and ability to pick up minute details, though she could not deny her effectiveness. Though at times Valia came off as blunt, unsubtle and gruff in manner, Atris was starting to get the feeling that it was just a tactic to make others underestimate her. Something carefully cultivated, like a Kel Dor Possum playing dead before striking.

"We should exploit Revan's injury," Valia spoke suddenly.

Atris stopped walking. "What did you say?"

"I'm saying she should somehow suffer greater injury to her right side. Also, Revan's Makashi does not have the power to meet a style like Djem So in a straight up brawl. So when the time comes, I'll have to be prepared to batter her into submission."

"I approve of exploiting her style, but not her injury. I don't want to hear that kind of talk coming from you again, Padawan."

"Suit yourself." Valia continued walking, dropping her point. "You should not be using Makashi."

"Oh? And why is that?"

"You are too aggressive to be comfortable with the style. Your agression and the style fight each other constantly. You strike me as the type that needs to move fast and hard against her opponent. You need to utilize your aggression, but in a healthy manner."

"I certainly don't think that is a sentiment many of the Masters would agree with! And seeing as how you have been in the order only a few days, I don't see why I should listen.

"How long have you been using Makashi?"

"Half a decade."

"Do you think you could take me?"

"No. You fought the X to a draw. I would not stand a chance."

"I'll go easy on you," Valia grinned. "So what do you say?"

"I say later, after our classes."

Despite the argument, Atris could not help but be overcome by a sudden cheerfulness. She continued walking with her friend, the dispute forgotten.

"Valia! So good to see you!" Master Kaver warmly greeted, standing in the doorway as they entered the sublevel training facility.

_"Honnichiwa, Sensei,"_ Valia replied in her own language without thinking.

Master Kavar raised an eyebrow at the strange words. "Pardon?"

"Oh...I...uh...sorry. Lost myself there, for a second. Hello, Master. My training goes well. How are you?"

"That's great. Sorry I wasn't here. I felt it best for someone of your...talent to get acclimated. Besides, the Council sent me on a mission to the Morenva system. Can't say too much about it, though," Kavar answered in offhand fashion.

Valia liked this about him. He was not as stiff and uptight as the other Masters. He would have fit right in on her home world.

"I understand," Valia replied.

"Oh, I see you've met Atris. I trust she has been helping you fit in?"

"Very much so. Shall we head to training now?"

"Oh, of course. Don't let me keep you. I am eager to see if you have been keeping up your lessons, my apprentice."

"I assure you, I have."

Kavar nodded and then the three went back to the new training area that had been set up in the sublevel. It was brand new. Not even fully equipped.

Stupid, Valia thought. A training facility should be fully prepped. No way her old masters would have been this sloppy with their charges. Valia spotted the silent student, X, as well as Mical and Belaya setting up the weapon racks under the supervision of Master Vandar. She gave X a knowing nod and Mical a grin as she walked in.

Valia spotted the old codger, Vrook, as well as another Echani in the room, wearing the white robes of a knight. Valia stifled a gasp as she beheld the stunning specimen of womanhood and matriarchal power. Valia quickly analyzed the woman. The way she stood bespoke perfect balance of movement. There wasn't a spare ounce of fat. She was almost all muscle, from what she could tell. Ice white hair flowed down her back and framed a face that was both noble and disciplined, and set with a profound melancholy that took her aback.

This woman would have made and excellent student-and, in time, and excellent teacher-back home.

Atris was shocked by her presence also. "Oh my...do you know who that is?!" she whispered excitedly.

Valia turned. "Who?"

"Arren Kae! Finest swordsman to come out of Coruscant!" Atris answered. "A master of most types of bladed weaponry and unarmed combat. Very strong in the Force also. If anyone could take Revan down a peg or two, I would place my credits on her."

"Think she could take me in a fight?" Valia asked jokingly.

"More than likely. You're good, Valia, real good, but I don't quite think you're at her level yet. I'd be lying if I said I didn't think you could reach for it though. At the moment, however, I'd say you'd give her quite a fight before she finally managed to get the better of you."

Valia nodded, still fascinated by the Echani. "She's trained many?" Valia asked.

"Indeed. I myself took classes from her. Some days, I wonder where I'd be at now if I was still her student instead of..." Atris stopped herself. "Never mind."

"What? What were you going to say?"

"Just...never mind," Atris replied, glowering for a minute.

Valia then noticed something odd about the situation.

There were three Masters here.

Strange, what business could draw three Masters to a simple training session, numb academy routine? As Valia saw it, there should only be a need for one Master, maybe a Knight close by for unexpected situations. Valia was fairly certain this was far from normal procedure. It just didn't flow right.

Valia began to get a bad feeling as to why the Masters were here.

They were there to watch her, she realized with a sudden burst of insight. They were there to examine her and what she was capable of. She was not certain how she could be so completely convinced of this, but it rang true with everything she could observe about the situation. Vrook had been eyeing her oddly since the moment she had stepped into the room as though he thought they could be old acquaintances.

That was impossible, as they had never met before a few days ago.

"Settle down, everyone," Vrook called out in his typically grouchy tone. "Good morning class. As I'm sure you've noticed we have a guest today all the way from Coruscant; Master Arren Kae." His gaze ran across the entire class, but Valia was certain his stare had lingered on her for a half second longer. "This today will be a test of skill, to see which of you will be allowed entry in the fast approaching tournament. We are here to watch and observe each of you, to see if you have been keeping up with your lessons. For those of you with an unrealistic appraisal of your skills, you will leave here today with a direction in which to redouble your study. Those who prevail will be granted entry."

As Vrook spoke to the whole class, Valia noticed out of the corner of her eye that Arren was paying close attention to her.

A door opened from the other side. Vrook instantly frowned.

"Padawans Revan, Alek, and Cariaga, I see you have chosen to be late again. Is our schedule so beneath you that you choose to not participate in these discussions?" Vrook snapped.

"Forgive us, Master Vrook, we were out practicing. I assure you, none of us meant any disrespect-"

"Take a seat, all of you. I hereby assign you to the kitchens to prepare tomorrow's meal for the younglings. It is a task I expect to be completed on time," Vrook barked.

Atris could not help but snicker. "That's my master for you. He's the only one besides me who sees how Revan should be handled."

"Padawan Atris, do you have more to say?" Vandar called out, a gentle smile creeping up his old, wizened visage.

"Of course not, Master Vandar," Atris stammered.

"Padawan, if you could stop gossiping for a moment, perhaps you and your friend next to you would like to began these exercises?" Vrook clucked in disapproval.

Atris visually shrunk. Valia grimaced. Atris needed more steel in her spine if she wanted to put Revan and Alek in their place.

The poor girl, Valia thought. She sets the impossible as her first goal.

"Of course, Master Vrook. Who shall my first opponent be?"

"Not so fast Padawan. Let us test your friend out. If she has enough time to gossip with you, perhaps she was not concerned with her lightsaber training. Valia Renn will begin our exercises today," Vrook said. "Padawan Valia, Step forward."

Valia stepped forward, giving Atris' hand a gentle squeeze before stepping into the center. There were murmurs among the younglings about her eye patch. Arren was doing her best trying not to look too interested. A mistake, for it gave away how interested she actually was.

Somehow, this only made Valia more concerned. As if that wasn't enough, now Revan and Alek were paying close attention.

"What is thy bidding, Master?" Valia asked.

Vrook stared into her one eye, thinking for a moment. Valia suppressed a wince as she realized he was indeed looking at her as though he knew her from somewhere.

"Hmm...I think I will put you up against...Cariaga. Padawan Cariaga! Step forward!" Vrook ordered finally.

Cariaga stepped forward, gripping her tonfa style lightsabers, her red hair in a ponytail. Valia ignored the friendly smile Cariaga gave her, instead analyzing the weapons.

Tonfa-sabers. Interesting choice. Most used them for defensive purposes and quick counter-attacks, often spinning the weapons to confuse an opponent. In the old days, her old Masters had drilled her on the weapon, forcing her to master it. All in all, Valia felt the weapon's use was rather limited unless one devoted time to it, and more vulnerable to having the hilt destroyed. Still, in the right hands, it could be devastating. As with any weapon, the only flaw was the practitioner.

"Set your weapons to a low output. I would prefer not to pick your limbs up from off the floor," Vrook spat.

Valia took out her weapon, a simple, bare bones hilt whose design she had copied from her stepmother. There were no buttons on the outside, to prevent those unskilled in the Force from accidentally setting it off. All adjustment mechanisms were built on the inside. Valia concentrated, dialing down the intensity of the blade. Cariaga set some buttons on her weapons to low setting. Green blades shot out, which the Padawan flourished energetically.

A dull, acid yellow blade crawled out with hiss from Valia's weapon. The students watching mumbled among themselves. It was quite an ugly color for a blade. Valia went into a Soresu ready.

If Vrook wanted to test her, she might as well pass.

"Begin!" Arren said, acting as referee.

Cariaga lunged, her blades in an overhead swing.

Valia blocked with her saber one handed, their blades now locking. With a grunt, Valia pressed back with her blade and shoved Cariaga off of her, causing her to tumble to the ground.

Valia's face went impassive. Her shoulders slumped as she gave a small flourish of her blade in challenge.

Cariaga gave an impressive twirl on the ground that righted herself. She twirled the blades in her hand, trying to confuse Valia, whipping the blades this way and that at the midsection.

Valia took a step back, thrusting her blade forward at Cariaga's center. The main problem when using a tonfa-saber is the center is especially hard to defend: The weapon is meant for quick assaults, and parrying with the blades can be difficult, given the construction. Valia remembered how she had to employ quick parries and darting movements. Hit and run is where Cariaga's particular choice of weaponry excelled at.

If only Cariaga had known that.

She belatedly dodged the thrust and aimed a blade at Valia's knees. Valia anticipated the tactic, and used the point of contact with Cariaga's first blade and her own to flip herself forward, clearing her legs from the floor and landing behind her opponent. Punishing the mistake, Valia delivered a knee to the small of Cariaga's back.

The crowd of students gasped, surprised as much by Valia's ingenuity as they had been by her vicious attack. Revan and Alek stood up in the crowd, concern for Cariaga crossing both their faces. Had Valia been paying attention though, she would have seen Revan again start staring at her in fascination.

Cariaga, for her part, stumbled forward, clenching her teeth in pain from the throbbing in her back. She wheeled around however and with a burst of adrenaline, and perhaps more motivation than she had previously had, came at Valia with a tight spinning attack of both blades forcing Valia to block. Valia soon shook her off however, and evaded Cariaga's searching attacks as she waited for just the correct moment to strike. Slowly but surely, she drew Cariaga into the fight, tried to make her obsessed with landing a blow, careful to keep her face impassive, as she found that this had a habit of making her opponents unsettled in battle.

It worked. Worry, and perhaps some fear crossed Cariaga's face as she stared into Valia's unblinking viridian eye.

And there was the opening.

Valia brutally stomped her foot just as their blades lock, crushing Cariaga's toes. Her opponent gave a screech and stumbled backward painfully. Master Kae raised an eyebrow but didn't stop the match.

"Toe stomping? That sure isn't in any of the training courses," Alek remarked quietly.

"Shhh..." was Revan's only reply.

Cariaga walked tenderly, adjusting her stance. Valia sensed an opening. There was just something...wrong about the way Cariaga adjusted her stance. It left her too open to quick reversals.

One last time, Cariaga tried to go on the offensive. She spun her blades in an attempt to mesmerize her foe, not aware she was playing right into Valia's hands. Instead of standing still and blocking, Valia leapt forward with a heavy vertical swing, which Cariaga blocked, panic showing. As Valia caught the parrying blades, she twisted to one side with her blade, diverting the thrust of her arms and pulling her opponent's weapons away from her, where they clattered to the floor harmlessly, deactivating.

The end was nigh.

Valia gripped her weapon with one hand and with the other grabbed Cariaga by the hair and pulled her head down to her knee. The crack it made against Cariaga's jaw resounded throughout the class.

Her opponent's head snapped back, reeling before she doubled over as Valia kicked her in the stomach, slicing her across the shoulder with her lightsaber at the same time and sending her to the ground.

Valia, much to the surprise of the class, got down on the ground next Cariaga, watching silently as her opponent struggled to get up. Valia cocked her head slightly to one side and stared with the intensity of a viper coiling to strike. As Cariaga began to get shakily to her hands and knees, Valia rose up to, backing away a few steps, gritting her teeth in anticipation. Finally, when she could wait no longer, Valia rushed forward, crashing her booted foot against the side of Cariaga's head, her whole body recoiling from the force of impact and sending her sprawling a good few meters.

Valia's opponent finally flopped over senseless like a dead fish.

The whole class was dead silent. Master Vrook's mouth was half open in shock, his mind still trying to register the brutality. Vandar's mouth was stretched into a tight, grim frown. Valia saw Revan staring at her with an eyebrow raised. Alek was wide-eyed.

Finally, Arren stepped in, breaking the silence.

"The...match is over. Padawan Valia wins," the Jedi Master said, giving Valia an odd look, then turning her attention to the prostrate Cariaga, still out cold.

"Somebody get her to a med station," Master Kae said with no small amount of pity. A few of the students came forward and gently lifted Cariaga off.

Kavar stared at her, thinking she didn't notice. Valia almost regretted finishing off Cariaga in such a brutal manner, but the girl had practically asked for it. If someone wanted to fight her, she'd give them a fight.

She also realized that it may have been very unwise losing control like that, given that the Nosferan had witnessed the whole thing. Valia made a mental note to switch up her tactics for fighting Revan.

More importantly however, was the fact that Jedi methods would frown on something like this. As she was so new to the order, she realized that they may not take to such acts the way her old masters would have.

Her new Masters did not disappoint. "Padawan Valia, perhaps you would like to explain your choice to so recklessly injure Cariaga in a simple exercise?" Vrook snapped. Valia took one look at him and knew what he thought of her, based on what he had just seen. He thought she was too dangerous for her own good.

"I was taking the match seriously, Master Vrook," she replied calmly. "Something I am sure you will expect from all of us during the tournament."

"Taking the match seriously, eh?" Vrook almost mocked as he stood up, circling her. "These are meant to be training exercises only. You turned it into a brawl," he said, leaning down and scowling.

"Master Vrook, from what I understand, most lightsaber fights have a habit of turning into brawls," Valia replied, looking straight ahead rather than at him.

"And that is my point! From what YOU understand!" Vrook replied angrily. "You violated the code of conduct based on what _you _understand, a judgment you have already admitted as being grossly flawed. I must ask that you keep such...assumptions in check from now on, am I clear?" His gaze spoke to his anger but behind that gaze was something even Valia was starting to recognize more than even she liked to: Fear.

Strange, why would he be afraid? That was perhaps the most disturbing question of all.

Valia bowed. "I apologize for my ignorance, Master Vrook. I am quite new. I will try to avoid causing such...misfortune to my opponents in the future."

The students giggled. Arren covered her mouth to avoid smiling at Valia's choice of words.

"Enough!" Vrook snapped, gaining instant silence. "Perhaps I was hasty in sending you into this exercise without considering what you would do in the first place. To be fair, I will overlook it and give you another chance to show that you have restraint. You will, however, be preparing the morning meal for the younglings tomorrow, in place of Cariaga. Since you are...new to _our _ways of combat, you will fight another so that your abilities can be properly evaluated. For that, I will send you up against Padawan Atris."

Atris stepped forward. "I am ready, Master."

"Good. I will be grading you for form."

Atris bowed, activating her cyan blade, and setting it to low power. "Yes Master." She turned to Valia, a helpless expression in her eyes. Valia returned it, knowing that while Atris was not afraid of fighting Valia herself, she was more than afraid of Valia humiliating her.

Valia felt something stick in her throat.

Valia found herself instantly disliking Vrook for putting his student into this position. It was arrogant. It was irresponsible. Atris was clearly only a scholar at the moment. Making her fight Valia would be like making a Gizka try to kill a Maalraas. But Valia had vowed to pass Vrook's little challenge. She could comfort Atris later, right now; she had to snub the Jedi Master.

Atris readied her saber in her flawed Makashi stance. Valia went into a Soresu bluff. Atris gave a salute with her blade.

Their eyes conveyed more than words ever could. Atris knew-and accepted-that this was not of Valia's own doing, freeing Valia to do what must be done, to not hesitate.

They began their attack at the same time. Atris, to her credit, was a swift fighter, and began probing for a weakness in Valia's defense. But no matter which way she stabbed or swiped, Valia's blade was always able to meet hers with a fast parry and counter attack. Valia struck with Soresu, never stopping, constantly moving in on Atris' guard, and in the process enrapturing the attention of Arren and Kavar.

Both were perplexed at how quickly Valia had turned what was supposed to be a defensive form into one used almost solely for attacking. Kavar, who had taught her the basics, couldn't believe what he was seeing. The motions were basically the same, but altered in subtle ways that he, and likely no one else, had ever seen before. There was more power in her strikes, and her movements, while staying conceptually the same, were altered in very subtle ways to throw off the opponent, bait them into thinking they were just fighting an abnormally aggressive Soresu user, and then having no escape as they were cut down.

It was not really _Soresu. _It had merely been put together to _look _like Soresu.

That was actually a style of combat completely foreign to him. He gave a glance at Arren, who was perplexed also. She had noticed the oddity as well-and was clearly fascinated by the exotic style. Kavar wondered how many of the students here would ever catch on to what Valia was doing.

Atris, seemingly sensing the end, pulled out a number of impressive wild card attacks in an attempt to forestall the inevitable. Valia was genuinely surprised by a few, but anticipated most of them, guarding easily.

Valia had to give her credit. Atris had heart. A great deal of it. As time passed, Valia was certain Atris would be able to come to terms with herself and correct the flaws in her training. There were, after all, no such things as bad students. Only bad teachers, like Vrook.

But that day was still some ways off. And Valia did not have it in her to keep stringing Atris along like this, not the first actual friend she had made outside of the rim.

With a final dipping attack, Valia swept her lightsaber underneath Atris' straight guard. She twisted at the last moment, and seized Atris' wrists, levering her around, squeezing so that the weapon fell out of her grip and into Valia's free hand. Atris' head lowered in defeat as her own weapon was pointed at her neck.

Atris hung her head down, feeling the walls press in. She had not really tried to lose, she had merely understood why Valia was going to do what she was going to do.

"Padawan Valia...is the winner," Arren said, unsettled, but still impressed. "I believe that lasted only thirty seconds."

"It seems you have not been practicing much, Padawan Atris," Vrook said with a voice that made Atris cringe.

Valia had had enough. "Perhaps her performance was poor because her training was poor," she said, lacing the words with subtle and almost imperceptible condemnation at Vrook, daring him to look her in the eye.

The entire class froze. Vrook's mouth was open slightly in shock. Revan and Alek were open mouthed also, though the looks on their faces quickly spread into a wide grin that refused to leave their faces.

"Perhaps you would like to explain what you meant, _Padawan," _Vrook asked, clearly not liking where this was heading.

"I'm saying that you are not training her well at all. Your flaws have been passed onto your student. Her swordsmanship is not poor for lack of trying. It is poor for your lack of concise teaching."

It was as though the air had been sucked out of the room. A pin dropping could have been heard. No one dared to draw a breath as Vrook's face went slightly purple.

"And how are you so sure that I am to blame?" he asked asserting the authority that Valia had tried to snatch from him.

"Atris attempted moves in the fight that were clearly out of her league. You are not concise in combat instruction," Valia replied bluntly. "It seems she is a far better student then you are a teacher."

"And what gives you, a Padawan not two days inducted into the Order the right to question how I or any Jedi Master teaches?"

"You assigned me to fight your student. That makes it my business. I apologize if this seems harsh, but I speak only what I think to be true. And what I think to be true is that you do not know how to instruct someone to properly fight with a blade."

Vrook was genuinely wide-eyed. He looked for a moment like he was going to launch into a scolding, but before he could, Vandar interrupted.

"Padawan Valia, while I appreciate the fact that you are not afraid to voice your opinion, I must remind you to next time choose...a less blunt approach. Master Vrook, your presence is not required any longer."

"But I-"

"Please Master Vrook, as a favor to me."

His face now beat red, Vrook closed his mouth, perhaps realizing how close he had come to setting a bad example against his own standards and left the training area.

"Padawan Valia, I would like to see you when this is over," Vandar spoke, trying to be as serious as possible.

"Of course, Master Vandar." Valia said, withdrawing into the crowd. "Are you crazy?" Atris asked. "Do you have any clue how much trouble you're going to get into?"

"I would have to agree, Valia," Kavar said sternly. "I would like you to explain to me why you did what you did-AFTER Vandar has his say."

The class had gone on in total silence. Valia stayed behind while the other masters left. Vandar picked up his little cane and began walking around before finally speaking.

"I know you are new to all of this. I stopped Vrook because your criticism had some merit to it. But you must show restraint."

"He was berating Atris for something he himself had a hand in! I believe she would be better off with another Master, since it is clear Vrook is no swordsman."

"Always speak you mind, do you?" Vandar said, giving an odd little chuckle. "Bold you are, padawan."

"I sought only to speak the truth, Master."

"Yes, well...a bit more gentle with the truth, you could be."

"Master Vandar, was it not you who said that the truth causes pain?"

Another chuckle. "I did indeed say this. I was very young," the little green alien said. "Not much younger than you are, in fact."

"How old are you?"

"700 years as of next month." Vandar replied. "Proud I am, to have survived this long."

"Pride is an axis of evil," Valia muttered.

"Indeed. Are you so sure you your self were not motivated by pride to inform Vrook? Remember, Padawan, that there is a difference between pointing out flaws to help and pointing out flaws simply to inflict insult. I hope we do not have such a conversation over this again."

"I see. I will take what you have said to heart, Master Vandar." Valia bowed.

"Your fight was impressive," Vandar said. "Now doubt drawing on previous training, hmmm?"

"Master Vandar...I do not wish to offend you, but my past..."

"Understand, I do. Painful, your past seems to be, as evidenced by your arm." Vandar lifted her left sleeve up, gazing at the scars. He put them down, giving a sad shake of his head.

"Go through what you did, no child should."

Valia suddenly felt very uncomfortable as Vandar stared at her, like he knew every secret she already possessed.

Valia turned away, breaking the gaze. "It is of no consequence. I survived."

"Make not your life only about survival, Padawan," Vandar replied as Valia walked off.

Valia walked out of the chamber to find Revan leaning against the wall, her arms folded.

"Impressive, the way you handled Vrook. I should like to be so bold one of these days," Revan said, smiling. "Perhaps I misjudged you. Vrook is always hassling me and Alek. Both of us have been dying for years to tell the old bastard off."

"I did not tell him off, Revan. I was merely...pointing out his mistakes."

"Of course that is what you were doing. It is clear to me that I, too, made a mistake in our first meeting. Much as I am loath to admit it...you were quite perceptive. You piqued my curiosity when I saw you with Mical. May I introduce myself the proper way, this time?"

"If you feel you must."

Revan cleared her throat, and then held out her hand. "I am Revan. I was given to the Order for training by my adoptive father, the Count of Serreno."

Valia hesitated for a second, but then took it. Revan did not reek of calculations like she had the first time. If the Nosferan wanted to be genuinely polite, then so would she.

"Valia Renn. I was working in a kitchen on Coruscant not too long ago."

Valia could tell Revan was struggling to hold back a tide of questions, such as who she was and where she was from. It would come later, though. Nosferans cannot help themselves.

"Coruscant? I haven't been there in years. Say, perhaps you would like to join me and Alek, later on? We'll be in the cafeteria."

"I have no wish to offend you, but I must speak to both my Master and to Atris. I have no time for you," Valia said with clear dismissal.

"Damage control, huh?" Revan chuckled with a velvet tone, somewhat incensed. "I understand. Next time, then."

As Valia nodded and walked past her, she reflected on the Nosferan's manner. The charisma was considerable.

How easy it would be to be friends with her.

Easy, yet overwhelmingly impossible...

Present day, Coruscant.

Valia snapped out of the flow walk, immediately getting away from Kreia.

"What is the matter, Exile?"

"I'm done. I think I've gotten my innovation back," Valia, said, feeling the cleverness of her old lessons flowing through her again.

"Part of it. As we travel, you are sure to obtain more of your old teachings. For now, let us both rest," Kreia said.

"You were watching everything I was, weren't you."

"Indeed. I also felt everything you experienced," Kreia was turned away from the urge to mock her student for any perceived weaknesses. Even Kreia could remember being young and stupid.

"I would speak to Bastila Shan quickly. She has much explaining to do."


	12. Reunion At Dantooine

Valia watched as Raya and Owen headed down an alley in the Coruscant depths. There had been no need for Raya to say goodbye-they had said everything they needed to... Owen waved a bit before he and the Twilek disappeared down a corner. They could make their way to Xahn's village quickly from here. Valia continued staring a moment and then she went back to the Ebon Hawk. It would still be another twenty minutes before Bao-Dur gave the okay to turn the engines on.

She started back up the ramp and immediately headed for Bastila Shan, who was still dressed in her dirty rags, waiting by the holo-map, struggling to ignore the shock erupting from the piece of Revan's soul at seeing Valia. If she wasn't careful, it could take control and get answers its own way.

Valia folded her arms with a smile of vindictiveness mixed with total satisfaction.

"Well, look how the mighty have fallen. Been a while, Shan."

Bastila scowled. "If someone had told me five years ago I would be holing up with you, Exile, I'd have told them they were crazy."

"Judgmental as ever, I see," Valia rasped. "If someone had told me five years ago that Bastila Shan, the most irritating little schutta I ever met would go from being the Council's lackey to a frakking vagrant I would have laughed in their face."

"I am not a vagrant!" Bastila replied. "I-"

"You smell of the soup kitchen, Bastila. I know. I used to work in one." Valia paced a bit. "I heard some interesting things about you, heard you got yourself in trouble with Alek."

"Darth Malak, you mean."

"Whatever. Heard you became his apprentice."

"I-I was under duress. He tortured me for days! You know very well that Jedi are not trained to withstand that kind of punishment for very long."

"So the rumors were true. You finally got yours."

"You're STILL angry about Ukatis?! It has been fourteen years!"

"You never took responsibility! You were supposed to pick us up in the recon shuttle and instead you were holed up at the communication tower waiting for the Council's orders. I lost eight men! Eight men who would have lived if you had just listened!"

"I can regret the loss of life. I didn't know any better at the time! I thought I had to rely on the Council for everything. But maybe you should have thought the mission out a little bit better!"

"I had it mapped out! I had a route. I had an objective and I knew what resources I had. All I needed was a pilot to get my team out of that frakking dungeon. And you chose to abscond because you needed Vrook to hold your hand! Every life that was lost that day was your fault, not mine!" Valia replied angrily, poking Bastila's shoulder. "You know what The Ukatis King did when he caught us? Butchery. Butchered my entire team in front of me and was about to kill me as well if Noran hadn't-"

"You mean the Mandalorian, Noran?"

Valia glared hatefully. "Yes, Shan. THAT Noran. Stepped in front of me just as the King attacked with a Force pulse. His armor and his Force powers took some of the impact, but not enough to really spare either of us, just enough to leave clinging me to life. He was killed instantly." Valia stopped, absently running a hand over her stomach. "So long ago..."

Valia turned back to her. "How did you get on this ship anyway?"

"I detected the Ebon Hawk landing on that abandoned platform, while I was foraging for food. I snuck aboard and was waiting for whoever might be the new owner so I could explain myself."

"You know the name of this ship," Valia growled. "That means you've been on it before."

"Yes. I once flew on this ship with Revan. Back then she was going by the name of Korel Bhara."

"Revan? Where is she? What happened to her?"

"She's...around," Bastila answered, uncomfortably aware of Revan's silent, yet agitated. presence.

"I don't have time for guessing games, Shan."

"Perhaps you had better sit down..." Bastila explained. As Valia took a seat, Bastila began to recant her whole story, noticing Valia become angrier by the minute.

When she was finished, there was a fire in Valia's eye.

"You're a real piece of work, you know that?" Valia snarled. "Erasing her memory-despicable. Better to kill her than make her forget who she is. But I suppose you and your beloved little council always wanted that, right? A Force sensitive who would never question your orders, jump when you told her to!"

Information put forward by that little piece of Revan's soul made Bastila blurt a question out.

"You are one to talk. Why are you dressed as a Jedi Shadow?"

Valia glowered. "I...used to be one. I'm not anymore. I quit."

A question from the Revan in her made her ask something else.

"You tried to kill her, didn't you?"

Valia's head lowered.

"Yes. I tried. Alek lost his jaw during the fight."

Anger surged from the Revan in her. Bastila forced herself to wall off the rage building up inside.

"Why?! How could you do it? She and Alek trusted you more than anybody else!" Bastila almost shouted, not quite succeeding in closing off her emotions.

"I...was scared. I had a vision during the Ukatis Incident. A vision of a figure in black and red armor who would be the source of...utter destruction. When I saw Revan with that armor, I knew it was her. I was too attached to being a Jedi back then. In that respect, you and I are not so different. I...lost everything once. I wasn't prepared to lose everything again because someone decided to be selfish. I thought I was doing the right thing when I joined the Shadows. I thought I had finally found a way to do what I thought must be done to ensure the safety of everything I had come to care about. You must understand, I bore no hatred personally to either Revan or Alek at the time. I felt I simply had to kill them. Even Alek losing his jaw was an accident. I didn't intend for him to suffer like that. I-I could never look him in the eye afterward," Valia went on. "I had fully intended to try again, in fact, until I found out Revan was pregnant. I tried to convince the other Shadows to call it off, but that was when I realized they lacked even the tiniest fraction of mercy." Her eyes darkened at the memory of being forced to slaughter the Shadow Head Master and his acolytes.

"If the time comes that I should encounter Revan, I will offer up my life," Valia finished. "It is the least I can do."

This answer shocked the piece of Revan in her more than anything else. The piece went silent, in contemplation. Bastila decided to reign in the conversation with another question.

"What is your mission now? I can hardly imagine you dressed like this unless you have something to do."

"I have been given a task to locate the remaining Jedi Masters on behalf of Atris, so that I might atone for some of my mistakes, my crimes.

"Then I'm going with you."

"You are not. I do not trust you."

"Why should I trust you? You tried to kill Revan!"

"I meant to say I do not trust you to get the job done. You're weak, Shan. Squeamish. Scared to get your hands dirty. You always were."

"That's changed!"

"How, might I ask? You're only dirty because you are forced to be. I bet if given the choice, you would flee back to the Jedi temple!"

"Listen you," she said through gritted teeth. "I am NOT leaving. I am not going back to the streets. Not when I'm on the run from Carth Onasi. I would rather make myself useful and help you."

"What use are you to me? I'm seasoned. You look like you have not had much of a chance to practice."

"I can get better. It is like riding a speeder bike."

"Yeah. Sure." Valia stood up, sighing.

"Very well, Shan. You may accompany me. But you follow my lead. You follow your frakking orders this time. You disobey a direct order and I will leave you wherever I desire. Understood?"

"Perfectly."

"Good. Now get into the refresher and shower. You stink to high heaven. I'll try and find you some new clothes. Now get out of my sight."

Bastila nodded and left for the refresher.

"Huh. Bastila Shan. Never thought in a million years I'd be working alongside her."

Valia turned to Atton, who was leaning against the wall next to the cockpit corridor.

"I take it you are familiar with her?"

"Hell, everybody was. She was the one reason the Sith didn't totally bury the Republic besides Revan. Didn't know that part about memory erasure though. Bastards."

"You heard that part?" Valia was concerned. How the hell had he been able to listen in without her noticing?

Perhaps she had been simply too absorbed in the conversation.

No matter, she would pay more attention next time.

"So, where to next, Fearless Leader?" he asked casually.

"Dantooine. We leave in one hour. Prep the ship."

Atton nodded, turning to the cockpit. He stopped a moment before going any further.

"Are you really going to let Revan kill you, if she decides to?"

Valia turned away from Atton.

"There is much evil I have committed over the years. I have used the Force to destroy, kill, and maim. I created Darth Revan, as so many call her. Thus, the recent acts of destruction are my responsibility as well. If I cannot answer for that, truly am I a wicked person. An abomination, if you will."

Valia walked off. Atton sighed, disturbed by her answer and immediately went back to counting Pazaak cards in his head to distract himself as he headed for the cockpit.

Valia entered the cargo hold, intent on training with the Rookie some more. She headed inside, where, sure enough, the Rookie was busy practicing-but only the basics. Valia was pleased that the Rookie had taken her advice.

"You like practicing, don't you, Rookie?" Valia asked.

The Echani paused. "I took your advice. I'm using only the basics."

"I noticed."

"Valia..." The Rookie paused before posing her next question. "Is it true, what Raya said? Are you training me as your new protégé?"

"Raya has a lot of opinions. Says a lot of things she thinks are true. And while she is usually dead on, in this case...not so much. No. I'm not training you as my new student. I'm just showing you how to survive so some Sith Lord won't gut you," Valia lied.

"I...am relieved. If you were, it would compromise my loyalty to Atris."

"It is odd, that Atris would take you in, knowing you to be the daughter of a fallen Jedi."

The Rookie winced at the word 'fallen.'

"I-I was kept on only because my other five sisters were more valuable."

"Hardly. As I said before, they are unskilled. Atris keeps them around in the hopes of more as a psychological tactic, than anything else. Imagine being a student, their cold crystal eyes watching you, ready to strike you down if so much as a dark thought or attitude were to cross your face. She keeps you around because she does not want to let you out of her sight. Children of Force-sensitives tend to be quite strong themselves."

"But...I'm no threat to someone like Atris!"

"You could be, Rookie. Your mother was a fine duelist, able of keeping up with me. You even have much of her no-nonsense attitude. Atris sees this, and keeps you around to keep you weak. If you were to find your own place, than she fears you would go the same 'fallen' route your mother did. Of all your sisters, you are the one who strikes me as the most capable of having a life. It is for that reason Atris probably despises you, just like she would despise everybody in the Grip."

"Are-are you sure? Atris has never given any indication of hating me."

"Atris is as human as you or I. She had the independence crushed out of her by Jedi like Vrook, though. Atris has nothing. She clings to the code for her sanity. If her perceptions are threatened, I assure you she would become as a caged animal. And if she has given you no indication she hates you, that simply means that she is as good as any Jedi at hiding their emotions instead of mastering them."

"And what of you? Do you feel you are better off?"

"No. Many times have I nearly embraced madness. Hatred was once second nature to me. Hell, it probably still is."

"What do you think keeps you from slipping over?"

"Simple: I have absolutely no pity for myself. It is useless to cry about your lot if you have done nothing to change it. And I always remember to move on."

"That's it? It's that easy for you?"

"Not always," Valia answered, taking off her robes, raising her hands into pincers. "It is time for more practice, Rookie."

As the two engaged in silent combat, Valia noted the Echani was keeping up better, moving faster without being encumbered by the flowery moves her sisters enjoyed.

The Echani was obviously made for the rough stuff. While it wasn't enough to defeat someone like Valia, with those simple punches and kicks, those standard arm locks she employed readily, The Echani was getting better. Valia would have to build her up now, she was ready for the next steps.

Valia's pincer hand shot out, gripping the Rookie's shoulder. It wasn't at bone breaking strength, like it usually was, but it was enough to make the Rookie gasp before pulling away. She tried to drive a knee into Valia's stomach, but the pincer hand was there again, driving sharp stabs of pain into the Rookie's leg as she fell to the floor, grasping her leg.

"I will teach you that next," Valia said, helping her stand up. "The power of that technique does not really come from the strength, though I do employ it. The power comes from applying the grip in the right places, like pressure points. If I were to hit or grip you in the right place, I could cause serious damage with minimal effort."

"That style you use...what's it called?"

"It is known as Scorpion."

"Scorpion..." The Rookie made her hand into the pincer shape. "I get it! Like the animals pincers! But how did you get your fingers to exhibit that sort of strength?"

"Training. Everything requires training. Before you can use that grip, you must build your finger strength up. Then you'll be able to tear stone apart," Valia answered. "I have another safe house on Dantooine. I will have to retrieve some of the tools there. It only gets tougher from here, Rookie." The pair continued practicing for the next forty five minutes before Valia called an end to the session and put her gear back on and left the cargo hold.

"It seems you have taken a liking to you Echani pet," Kreia said acidly, waiting a couple of feet down.

"Her mother saved my life. I owe her," Valia snapped. She steadied herself as the Hawk lifted off.

"Ah, perhaps I was merely...misreading you."

"Indeed."

"Are we on course for Dantooine?"

"Yes. I gave Atton the instructions an hour ago."

"Excellent. There is much we must face there."

"More for me, than you. Dantooine was my home for a long time."

"All the better that we should go there. I have foreseen that much will be decided on that world alone," Kreia replied, turning away from her student as her lip curled in a malicious manner. "If you would care to center yourself, I would have you in my chambers."

"Later. I need to unwind," Valia rasped.

"You are going to spend time with the fool," Kreia clucked with disapproval.

"I hate meditation. I have found over the years I really don't gain anything from it except a sore butt."

"I see," Kreia replied without irony, walking back to her dorm.

Valia snorted and headed to the cockpit. Atton was putting his feet up on the console as the Hawk went into hyperspace on auto pilot. He yawned as he took out a battered Pazaak deck.

"Something up?" he asked.

"I needed to get away from the witch."

"Everybody needs to. She's like bacteria. Wanna play some Pazaak? Republic Senate rules?"

"Republic Senate rules?" Valia repeated.

"That's where we waste a bunch of time and nobody gets anything done."

"Sounds like my kinda game. Deal."

Atton dealt her out four cards and himself four cards.

"So, where you from, Valia?"

"Far off."

"Oh, don't give me that. I looked you up on the database. You came to the Order late. Where did you live previously?"

"I worked in a kitchen for the homeless on Coruscant," Valia answered, not being able to recall when he had had a chance to access a terminal for that kind of information.

"Ugh...Coruscant. Rough life there unless you have money to spend. Or unless yer' a Jedi. Must have seemed like a no-brainer joining."

"I-" Valia stopped herself. She was hesitant to discuss her past, but decided that she could afford to be lax for a little while.

"What?" Atton asked.

"I...wanted my life to have meaning again. I wanted to stand for something other than being a cast-off."

"You run away from home, or something?"

"I was exiled," Valia answered, her chest tightening.

Atton looked up from his deck. "So this is the second time you've been exiled?"

"Yes. I was kinda asking for it, though."

"Man you've had it rough, sister. I thought my old man throwing me out of his million credit home for wanting to fight Mandalorians was bad. But at least I was an adult. Must hurt, getting thrown out as a kid."

"You forget the pain, after a while," Valia lied.

"You're made of stronger stuff than me, then," Atton mumbled. "What did your old man throw you out for?"

"For screwing his life up. For shortchanging his supposed destiny. And for severely crippling him."

"Crippling?"

"Let's just say that bastard will never breath right again," Valia answered, remembering how she had corrupted her father's lungs with an onslaught of negatively attuned Force energy.

"Ouch. You're a harsh one."

"I know."

"So, you knew all that stuff before you joined?"

"Almost all of it."

"Bet your childhood was interesting," Atton said as he showed his hand. "I win."

Valia sighed. She should have asked for a better hand.

"So, how did you join the Shadows?"

"It was right after the Ukatis Incident. They liked my style."

"You keep mentioning the Ukatis Incident. I've never heard of it."

"I am not surprised. It was an embarrassing thing. Lots of people died. Most of them were Dark Jedi. Most of them died by my hand. But we lost a whole squad of Republic troops, a Jedi Master went rogue and many of my compatriots were tortured, Atris included, by the Ukatis King, who had come into possession of a Sith Holocron."

"Sounds rough."

"It was...Atris was never quite the same afterward," Valia sighed. "Let's stop talking and play some Pazaak."

Dantooine, night time.

The Ebon Hawk settled onto a nearby landing pad and it's ramp extended. Valia hadn't liked the looks of the planet below. She was seeing fires at a settlement of some sort. Was that the old Matale estate?

"Get ready. I need a combat drop," Valia told Atton

"Great. Just great," Atton mumbled, activating the landing gear.

"Kreia! Bastila! Get up and get moving! Rookie! You're with me!" Valia barked.

Valia, Kreia, Bastila and the Rookie stepped out. Bao-Dur needed Atton to stay behind and help him with ongoing repairs and guard the ship. Bastila had been provided Valia's armored clothing that she had worn on Telos. It was a bit loose, and did not fit perfectly, but it would do.

"What in the world happened?" Bastila asked as she saw the bodies everywhere.

The landing area was full of bodies, some belonging to what looked like the local militia, others to local farmers. Valia stepped over to one female body and searched her.

"Hmmm...says here she's Terena Adare. Head of the local administration. These look like lightsaber wounds. A hack job," Valia snorted. She pulled out her blasters and cautiously went forward, signaling for the others to follow. Bastila pulled a vibrosword off a corpse and tested it with a few swishes before going forward as well. The Rookie gripped her staff tightly and and made slow, silent steps.

What awaited them after they left the landing area was stunning.

There were men and women in green and silver armored robes firing nonstop at what appeared to be mercenaries and Sith Assassins. They had set up force-fields to defend the large building they were stationed at but it looked like they were winning. The number of dead mercs and Sith outweighed the number of the robed warriors.

"Jal-Shey," Valia said. "Opportunistic bunch. What are they doing here, though?"

"These guys again," Bastila muttered. "They say they serve as advisors and diplomats to politicians but that is only a front to pay for their own private army."

"At least they don't like the Sith," Valia muttered.

"Certainly. That doesn't mean they'll like us either. Jal-Shey and Jedi...don't get along, if you remember."

"I advise against letting your petty religious dispute over the nature of the Force get in the way of business," Valia rasped.

Valia charged and the rest of the group charged as well, Valia firing madly into the crowd of Sith while Kreia unleashed a storm of lightning. Bastila engaged a group of mercenaries by her lonesome and easily beheaded three of them within the first few seconds, while the Rookie charged into the thickest crowd of Sith, twirling her staff so that it became a blur as she slammed her weapon as hard as she could into whatever part of the body she could find. She was yanked back with a rope of Force energy by Valia.

"Don't over task yourself!" Valia managed to yell as she shot six more in the head.

Bastila had already reduced her group to a pile of dead when she sensed a sword screaming for the back of her skull.

She whirled around, prepared to block until she saw the merc consumed by lightning erupting from Kreia's hand, cooking him alive.

The merc fell to her feet, roasted.

Bastila just stared at Kreia for a long moment in the midst of the fighting. Then she took aim with her vibrosword.

Kreia tensed, prepared to defend herself. Was Bastila still so treacherous?

Bastila hurled her vibrosword with all her might-but not at Kreia. The weapon instead sang into the heart of a Sith who had been making a charge for Kreia.

Kreia turned, noted the corpse, then pulled the sword out of the dead Sith's body and tossed it back to Bastila, running to engage another group.

_"Ah. Just like old times, isn't it?" _the Revan in her asked.

"Shut up. I don't need you distracting me."

Valia, meanwhile had removed her Jedi Katana and been slicing her way through the throngs of enemies. Blood splashed across her face as she cut a Sith in half lengthwise and turned just in time to behead another, driving her sword behind her just as it made contact with a Sith's belly. That curious chanting sound coming off the blade began to grow louder in her head as she reflected a blaster bolt back at the head of a mercenary. She moved her sword as fast as she was able, virtually turning it into a wheel of death as she fought, cutting limbs off, clipping the heads off of others in a mad frenzy of killing until finally, in one bold move, she flung the sword into the remaining crowd of Sith who had charged at her all at once.

They barely had a chance to scream as the deadly disk of light she had made carved through the crowd, bisecting them. The sword continued flying for a bit, still spinning impossibly fast, until some power made it return to her hand, landing as lightly as a feather in her palm. There wasn't even any blood on it.

Valia sheathed it. It was indeed a fine weapon to obey a master like that. She watched the rest of her team mop up the final mercenaries until the last one fell, his neck snapped by the Echani's staff.

"You did well," Valia commended the Rookie. "I just might make a warrior out of you yet."

The Rookie looked more repulsed then ever by all the killing.

"Heads up. We have company," Bastila said.

A group of the Jal-Shey lead by a young looking man with dark brown hair and small goatee approached them.

"Thanks for the assistance. We were getting a little bit concerned there. Those guys just kept coming," the young man said.

Bastila's mouth dropped a bit. "Dustil?"

Dustil gave a glance at Bastila, narrowing his eyes a bit before he recognized her.

"Huh! Wonders never cease! How ya been, Bassie?" he asked.

"Homeless. Starving. I think I'm developing insomnia," Bastila replied flatly. "I discovered I'm diabetic also."

"Shoot...and I thought the rest of us had it bad," Dustil replied.

"Perhaps you would care to introduce us, Shan, if it isn't too much trouble," Valia snapped.

"This-this is Dustil Onasi," Bastila answered carefully.

"Onasi, eh?" Valia grunted. "You aware of what your father did, boy?"

"Too aware. I'm currently trying to pretend I never knew him," Dustil grumbled. "But enough about that vindictive old bastard. Let's talk about you. Specifically, how the Jal-Shey have been looking for you."

"Looking for me?" Valia asked.

"Yeah. We had a spy tailing you. He lost track of you after Telos. It really is a stroke of luck you happened to come here at all."

"Why were you looking for us to begin with?"

"We need your help."

"You could have just asked."

"True, but you have somewhat of a...reputation, shall we say?"

Valia thought about it and grunted. "True. What do you need my help with?"

"Invasion. From the rim."

A terrible feeling hit Valia's chest.

"Invasion from whom?"

"The problem is that we don't know. We don't have much intelligence on them. Advisor Corle might be able to tell you more," Dustil answered. "But we can worry about that later. Right now, we're concerned about the Jedi Enclave east of here. Specifically the Sub-Level. We had some egg-head type go in there and he hasn't reported back."

"The archives are in there," Valia said. "Maybe he tripped a defense system, whoever he was."

"Maybe. We can't afford to send any more men. More Sith Assassins could be showing up soon, along with a LOT more mercenaries. And what remains of the farming population is holed up in the old Matale building, or the Khoonda Administration, as they liked to call it. We leave, they die, simple as that."

"What's the egghead's name?"

"Mical, I think."

Valia's eyes widened.

"I will go there immediately. How long before you think the Sith return?"

"I give it about two hours. Intelligence says they brought in some sort of 'Flying Sith' but I'm not too worried. Just hurry. And be careful. Night time out here is not anywhere near as pleasant as it used to be and the predators are a bit more aggressive."

Valia nodded and headed for a familiar path to the Enclave, across a bridge.

As they crossed the bridge, a familiar voice rattled Valia.

"Ooo. A scavenger hunt. How exciting!"

Valia turned, looking for the source. Shishida emerged from behind a boulder to the right end of the bridge.

"I'm beginning to think you enjoy startling me, Shishida."

"Oh, forgive me, I should remember my manners," Shishida smirked. "Heading to the Enclave, are you? Mind if I tag along?"

Valia sighed. "Sure, why not," she replied.

"Perfect. Just like ol' times," Shishida said, giving her shark grin as she pulled out her scythe-saber, a kama like weapon with a chain attached to it.

"Valia, who is this woman?" the Rookie asked.

"Shishida Baiken."

"Is she a friend?"

"I...think so."

"You THINK? I must say, exile, the fact you THINK she is a friend fills me with confidence," Kreia hissed quietly.

"Shut up, Kreia."

Kreia sighed and continued walking in silence.

The four stopped when they saw the Enclave. The dome had collapsed and rubble and craters were spread everywhere. It looked terrible especially against the moon light.

Valia sighed.

"Hmm...a shame. Always was a pretty building," Shishida said with a happy-go-lucky tone. "It was a cold morning when I tracked you down, wasn't it, Old Friend?"

"I believe so."

"You looked so amusing, practicing Ataru with that white haired chick. Atris was her name, wasn't it?"

"Yes," Valia said formally, making her way around the back of the Enclave, spotting a few Laigrek corpses.

"Laigreks...great. They like dark caverns-and Force energy. They actually make good pets if you can tame 'em. Got one for my tenth birthday once."

"You are welcome," Shishida piped.

Valia gave a lopsided grin and spun her blaster, heading for the sub-level door.

The sublevel was damaged, but in remarkably good condition. Valia took in the musty scent of the room and her nose caught a whiff of perfume off Shishida's skin. Shishida knew Valia had smelled it and gave a knowing grin.

Valia pulled out a blaster, taking point. It wasn't long before she spotted a Laigrek. It hissed and snarled, making its way to her with clear aggression.

"Sorry about this," she said, Force pushing the creature into a wall. It was knocked unconscious.

"Put your weapons away." She ordered. "They're just Laigrek's."

"It seems I have found the line you will not cross, Exile," Kreia smirked.

"I'll cross it...but only if I need to. Besides, I have found over the years it is much easier to sympathize with a simple animal. People are the ones who have to work for my empathy."

"Indeed...We should hurry. I sense...another presence here. A presence I have not felt since..." Kreia trailed off.

Valia made her way ahead, knocking Laigreks unconscious with the force. Kreia was content to observe her student with a detached interest.

So...Valia had no qualms about killing people who threatened her but she would go out of her way not to harm an animal doing the same thing? It was a curious reversal of the standard, but Kreia could not find any weakness in her assertion, try though she might. It actually made a bit of sense in a twisted way. Kreia privately agreed with the underlying assertion behind her student's statement. People acted more like animals than the animals did. An animal cannot be blamed for acting like an animal but a person could.

"Hmm," Kreia hummed aloud as she followed.

They had almost made it to where Valia remembered the library was at when Valia stopped and stared at something. Moving quickly, She snatched it up off the ground.

It was a holodisk. A familiar one. Valia flicked it on.

It was a picture of Valia, Atris, and Mical. She recalled they had this taken just after the tournament.

She smiled a bit at how happy Mical was that day. He had one of the biggest grins she had ever seen.

"Yoohoo? Dantooine to Valia?" Shishida said.

Valia snapped out of it. "What is it?"

"The library door. Someone's behind it," the Rookie answered.

"Hello? Someone there? I-I seem to be stuck in here and I can't get out," a polite sounding voice said. "I would be most grateful if you would be so kind as to un-jam the door."

"Back away," Valia rasped. She formed her hand in the pincer shape and grabbed the lock in the middle of the door, twisting the lock out. The Rookie gaped in awe as Valia ripped the lock away. The door unsealed and Valia found herself staring at a familiar looking, somewhat befuddled looking blonde haired young man covered in dust.

"Oh, thank you so much! I was starting to fear I would never get out of here!" The man took a bow. "I am...a historian and scientist working for the Republic."

"Mical?! Is that you?" She asked going over to him.

"I...uh..yes, Valia."

Valia laughed, grabbing him and given him a hug. "Damn good to see you, Kid."

Mical found himself gasping for air at Valia's bear hug. "Please, you're choking me!" he gasped.

"Oh. Uh, sorry," she said, putting him down. "What the heck are you doing down here? You with that old fart Vrook?"

"Vrook is here? Oh my. He's in terrible danger. I must have just missed him! All I found were these corpses." Mical pointed to a pile laying near a statue.

"There are mercenaries looking to deliver Jedi to the Exchange on Nar Shaddaa! There was this datapad, but it was in code and-"

"The mercenaries are the least of your worries," spoke a somber deep female voice.

Valia gazed up as something dropped from the ceiling. She grimaced at the sight.

The figure had a curvy, muscular physique wearing tight brown clothes that seemed covered in scales and exposed her arms and belly-which were pockmarked by some type of large red open sores. It was utterly disgusting-and yet mesmerizing to look at at the same time. Even more disturbing was the Echani Demon Mask the figure wore, a laughing mask with a large bronze snake fixed to its forehead. The smile on the mask was an ugly one, as though forged to mock another's suffering.

"The Snake. Number two amongst the Five Deadly Venoms of the Jedi Shadows," Valia spat hatefully. "The most calculating and ruthless among us. I thought I had killed you at Malachor."

"You should have been a little more thorough with those explosives. Don't you remember what the Head Master always taught?" the Snake asked.

"If there is no body-then your opponent is not dead," Valia replied. "I will not make the same error again. You will die here."

"I have spent years tracking you, Number three. You betrayed our sacred brotherhood because you developed mercy at just the wrong time. You may have been the strongest among us physically, bu you were always the weakest emotionally. We must forsake our emotions in order to protect the Order from freaks and traitors like yourself."

"There is nothing sacred about what the Shadows do. It is just plain murder, straight up."

"The Order grew too complacent. Its members are not willing to do what must be done to protect the Galaxy. And if controlling or killing every Force sensitive is what it takes to end this war between light and dark, then that is what we must do," the Snake answered, pointing an accusing finger at Valia. "Scorpion, I always had my doubts about you. I knew that when it came down to it, you would cost us victory over the Dark Side because of your feelings. You have lost all honor. And now you will die like a pig, along with these wretches that follow you."

"You will find my life is not taken so easily," Valia growled. "Come for me, then! I'll kill you just like I killed the Centipede."

"Pah! The Centipede was merely a speed freak. He relied on his speed far too many times. It is no wonder you killed him! Any of the other Venoms could have! And I am no centipede."

At this creatures began snaking out of the open sores on the Snake's body. In an obscene way it looked much like waste from an already rotted body being expelled. Worms inhabiting a corpse. They were red, about fifteen inches long, looked a bit like a scarred earth worm and there were dozens of them, writhing mightily and when their tails snapped, it was like a whip cracking the air. There was also no mistaking the weapon that came out of their mouths.

Lightsaber blades. Long ones.

Shishida activated her scythe saber.

"Playtime!" she grinned.


	13. Snake Poison

Valia backed away from the creatures as their lightsaber mouths twitched for her.

Shishida threw her scythe saber, but the Snake merely made more of the creatures erupt from her chest and batted the weapon away.

The Rookie was about to rush forward, but was stopped by Valia.

"You are no match for her. Stay out of this. Shishida and I will handle it."

"I can help," the Rookie offered.

"You wouldn't know the first thing about fighting her. Stay out of it," Valia rasped. She never took her eye off the Snake.

"My power has doubled since last we met," the Snake laughed. "While you let your skills languish, being so weak as to hide yourself in a mental hospital."

Valia raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, I know what you did with yourself, weakling. It was a bit difficult digging up even that about you," the Snake continued, gloating. "So, tell me, just between us girls-who are you, really? Certainly Valia Renn is not your real name: those are names taken from an archaic dialect of the Miralukan language. Your name means 'Wandering Sting'. Among the Miraluka, the phrase is used to connotate someone living in a state of permanent banishment."

Valia looked at her in annoyance.

"I chose the name merely because it fit me. I owe you no other explanation," she answered.

"Ah, well, worth a try. Couldn't pass up the chance to get your past out of you once and for all," the Snake replied, her hands going into a knife hand position. "Die."

The Snake leapt for her, the slithery creatures that popped out of her torso activating silver lightsaber blades. Valia back flipped out of the way, drawing her katana and parrying multiple whipping blows from the creatures' blades, one grazed her shoulder, burning it. Valia grunted in pain as she backed up.

"Is that all you got?" she asked.

The Snake shot a straight hand aimed for her throat and Valia backed away some more, not daring to risk a grab, as the creatures in her enemy's body would not hesitate to tear her apart.

"I told you you were no match for me," the Snake declared. "Look at you, can't even risk getting close!"

Valia put away her sword and drew her blasters, firing,

The creatures on the Snake's body instantly deflected her shots with their mouth-blades.

The Snake laughed-then cried out in pain as Shishida's scythe saber made a connection, digging it's pink blade into her shoulder. The Snake held out her hands and the dozens of blade-creatures already loose started slithering to her.

"Awww, they're so cute!" Shishida said as one of them sprang for her. She dodged and caught it in mid leap, struggling with it as it wriggled in her grasp.

"Huh. Organic lightsabers. I didn't think there were any who still had the guts to make these things. They're notoriously ill-tempered and hard to control," Shishida noted before slicing the thing in half. She backed away from the other creatures swarming for her, swinging her scythe-saber with the help of the large chain attached to it, bisecting more of them.

"Hmm. An interesting weapon, but it will do you no good," the Snake scoffed. She directed the remaining creatures to swarm Shishida from all sides. And while it was clear that Shishida was more than proficient with her weapon, it wasn't long before she got unlucky.

Three of the creatures pierced her. One through the cheek, one in the torso, and one through her left shoulder. Shishida slumped against a wall, twitching.

Valia snarled and Force pushed the Snake into a nearby wall. It cracked on the assassin's impact.

Valia leapt forward, bringing down her sword, desperate to connect before the Snake regained her footing, pure hatred of her opponent fueling her speed.

Too late. The creatures still attached to the Snakes body blocked the blow, sweeping her aside with enough force to make her crash through the desk nearby.

"Close, but not enough," the Snake gloated, rising and then rushing her, all the creatures on her chest pointing their blades forward in a spearhead motion to kill Valia as she was rising. Just in time, however, Valia rolled out of the way, taking a swipe at the Snake's ankles, only for the blow to be blocked yet again by one of the creatures.

"You're beaten, Scorpion," the Snake snarled, making one of the creatures chop and stab at Valia. "You know, I always figured you a bit smarter than this. It is a shame to see I was wrong. I expected more."

Valia glanced behind the Snake and then smiled.

"You want more? My pleasure."

The scythe-saber erupted from the Snake's chest, making the assassin screech in pain as she tried to shake her attacker off.

Shishida held on, still alive, though grievously injured. Far from being in pain however, she just seemed incredibly annoyed.

"That hurt, you know! You also damaged my clothing! I HATE it when someone damages my clothing! You know how much this stuff cost me!?" Shishida asked angrily as she wrapped the chain of her weapon around the Snake's neck. The Snake finally, with a shout of frustration, threw Shishida off and more of the creatures detached from her, intent on swarming the Nosferan. Shishida leapt up and Force pushed the creatures back towards the Snake and then violently swung the chained weapon towards her, causing the Snake to back off, leaping towards another wall and using the creatures to anchor her to it as she climbed her way up it.

Shishida helped Valia up. "You make weird enemies, you know that?"

"Tell me about it," Valia grumbled. She looked up at the Snake.

"What that matter, Snake? You were acting all gun-ho and stuff just a minute ago. Bit off more than you could chew?"

The Snake didn't answer. Instead, more creatures began exiting her body and dropped to the floor by the dozen, causing Valia and Shishida tor frantically swipe at the vicious creatures as they began to pile up around them.

"You just had to antagonize her, didn't you?" Shishida asked.

"She was gonna try and kill us anyway. Why the hell not?"

Mical, who had been content to hide behind an overturned desk with Kreia and the Rookie, had decided he had finally had enough. Getting up from behind his cover, he stretched forth his hands and his fingers bent like talons as he unleashed multiple bolts of orange lightning that began to set the creatures surrounding Valia and Shishida on fire as well as electrocute them.

Valia and Shishida stared at Mical in surprise.

"I thought you had given up that kind of power," Valia noted with a raised eyebrow.

"Old habits die hard. Look, I'll handle these creatures, you take out that monster on the ceiling!" Mical yelled, backing away as the creatures tried to flank him.

"Thanks for the assist," Valia replied, turning her attention back to the Snake, who moved about on the ceiling in anticipation of attack.

Valia conjured Force fire and sent a great ball of it up towards her, but the Snake used her creatures to help her dodge it quickly. Frustrated, Valia sent up two more balls of flame, only for the Snake to artfully dodge those as well. Valia then tried to Force grip the Snake and pull her off the roof, only for her opponent to counter by tossing more of the creatures at her, which made both Valia and Shishida scramble out of the way frantically.

Valia snorted as she killed the four creatures tossed at her. This wasn't working.

"Shishida, I need your weapon."

"Say please."

"Just give it to me, dammit!"

"Say please."

"Fine. Please! Happy now?!"

Shishida sighed and gave it to her. "What are you going to do?"

"End this."

Valia began to spin the chained weapon faster and faster, trying to anticipate the Snake's movements, the Snake moved quickly in a zig-zag pattern in an attempt to throw her aim off.

But then the Snake finally got unlucky herself. She moved just the wrong way and Valia tossed the weapon, where it planted itself into the Snake's stomach.

"GET OVER HERE!" Valia rasped, yanking violently with all her strength and finally ripping the Snake from the ceiling down to her. The Snake hit the floor roughly and bounced a bit before instantly righting herself. Valia tossed Shishida back her weapon as she sent another ball of Force fire this time connecting as it set the assassin on fire, killing the remaining creatures attached to her.

But the Snake wasn't finished. Her hands took a spear shape. Valia's hands immediately assumed that of a pincer.

"Shishida, I would be grateful if you simply sat the rest of this out."

Shishida nodded and retreated a wise distance back.

"You are not as tough as you used to be," Valia noted.

"And you are not as ruthless. I remember you actively avoided the company of even your allies during the treasonous conflict Revan spear headed. It is a bit of a surprise to me you travel in company at all."

"Enough talk!"

The Snake struck first, her spear hand aiming for Valia's chest, which she dodged immediately. She was well aware the Snake's hand had enough strength to punch through her sternum. Valia aimed a kick for the Snake's midsection but the Snake ducked under it, aiming her own kick for Valia's face, which connected, sending her stumbling backward before she blocked another blow out of instinct, parrying it away from her as she sent a fist to the Snake's mask.

The mask shattered from the blow and for the first time Valia got a good look at the face.

Her face had almost serpentine slits for eyes, a thin mouth and light blond hair and an aura of haughtiness about her.

"You always were an ugly lil' schutta, you know that?" Valia asked as the Snake shot forward with a hard, fast hand. Valia dodged the blow and pulled out her blaster, firing.

The Snake's head split open from the shot, and a putrid scent began to emit from the wound, like raw sewage as the assassin toppled to the ground. Valia found her face covered in green blood. Valia fired several more times into the body.

"And so falls the mighty Snake," Valia rasped, kicking the body to make sure it was dead. Her disgust increased when she found smaller versions of the ugly creatures she bred in her body beginning to crawl out of the wound. She shot those too.

"Ughh...what was she?" Bastila asked.

"It was a Midichloral Manipulation designed by one Darth Ptolemus. Needless to say, he screwed up...bad...or maybe he got exactly what he was looking for. This thing you see here wasn't even its original body. It shed that long ago. Those organic blades are part of a shared consciousness and are bred within the body. It's a parasite," Valia answered.

"I can't believe people are still trying to make a perfect Manipulation. It's impossible. And you used to work with it?" Shishida inquired.

"Yeah. Not proud of it though. Never did manage to confirm the death of her creator either."

Valia turned to the Rookie, who had come out from hiding.

"Is it dead?" the Rookie asked.

"Maybe," Valia answered, producing another ball of fire and tossing it at the body, which caught fire instantly, the flames reaching high into the air. What remaining creatures were still wriggling about thashed even harder before ceasing movement completely.

"There. Now it's dead." Valia turned around and stared at Mical who was looking exhausted.

"You okay?"

"Would it be unusual if I said no?"

"Hardly."

"Then no, I'm pretty far from okay. I'm going to have nightmares over this," Mical answered.

"Mical, what are you doing with the Jal-Shey?" Valia asked.

"Well...times got a bit tough for me after you left for the wars. I was too old to continue my training and the other masters no longer trusted me after the Ukatis Incident. So, I had to leave. I drifted into agricultural work for a while...at least until I ran out of money. I got desperate for work and ended up falling in with a group called the Dark Mercenary Corps in order to pay the bills. Went into the Jal-Shey afterward. Still a bit rough. What happened to you?"

"I was trying to get my head right and stuck myself in a mental ward for Force Sensitives on Iga," Valia answered. "And now, here I am, back for a frakking gizka chase for Jedi Masters."

"Well, I, uh, see your notorious temper hasn't changed. I believe I could be of more assistance to you if we were to vacate this place. I thought I could come here and maybe preserve what was left of the Jedi here but coming to this place was a fool's errand. All the Holocrons are gone. The database has been wiped clean," Mical replied, clearly flustered.

"Well let's go then. Good to have you back. You need a weapon?"

"Oh, I, uh, have one handy," Mical said, showing off his light saber. It was a thick hilt with a ridged grip and a small bladed cross guard with small runes covering the top, plated with gold like electrum. He turned it on and an acid red blade shot out. He gave a few practice swishes before shutting it off, but the instant he did, the Rookie was at his side, her staff pointing at his jugular.

"He is one of the Sith! Valia, how can you trust this man?" the Rookie angrily asked.

"The truth is a little more complicated. Remember the door guard at the Grip? Put the damn thing down, Rookie before you hurt him," Valia ordered.

"I obey for your sake. Not for his. I will be watching him," the Rookie replied drawing back.

Valia sighed. She still had much to learn.

"You see you've drawn some rather colorful friends, as always" Mical said, massaging his throat. "Shall we go now?"

As the group walked the dark levels of the hall, Bastila got close to Valia, staring at Shishida the whole time, her wounds as ghastly as ever.

"Valia, may I ask you something?"

"If you must, Shan."

"Who is that woman? She seems like she's from Revan's species."

"You are as observant as ever, Queen Obvious. Her name is Shishida Baiken. She happens to come from one of the more inscrutable Nosferan clans. Bunch of aristocrats who happen to be some very deadly weapon makers."

"What's she doing with you?"

"Not sure," Valia whispered.

"Doesn't she need medical attention?"

"Not unless you wanna donate some blood."

The group then stopped as they stared at a dark skinned man in a red shirt, black vest and pants, accompanied by Nikto guards, blocking the entrance.

Valia frowned as she smelled the alcohol on the man.

"Braved the perils of the sublevel, yes? Many valuable artifacts in your possession?" he asked, with obvious glee. "This is fortuitous for both myself and comrades. For now, not only do I get rich salvage, I gain the bounty of a Jedi as well."

Valia frowned. "How did you know I was a Jedi?"

"Since you are going to die anyway, I suppose telling you will not hurt. His name was Shyrack."

"Like the animal?" Mical asked, puzzled. "Which type? There are several. Spotted ones on Deralia, Northern ash specimens on Corellia-"

"It does not matter. You will be dying now."

The man and his guards opened fire and Valia let loose with a hail of blaster bolts in his direction, blasting his legs off at the knee as Shishida flung her scythe-saber's pink blade at one of the Nikto, impaling him and tearing open his torso. A scour of blaster bolts hit her, drilling holes into her, but she did not go down. She Force gripped another Nikto and rammed him into the other. A ray of light erupted from her left hand, blinding the remaining five, paralyzing them.

The man whimpered, suddenly getting a very bad feeling as he tried to inch away from Valia.

"You were saying?" she rasped.

"Kill me, Jedi. I will say nothing," he spat defiantly.

Valia tapped his severed knees with two fingers. Gerevick screamed in pain.

"Who is this Shyrack?"

"MAKE THE PAIN STOP!" he begged.

"No. Who is Shyrack?"

"HE'S A SITH! A SIIITTTHHH!" Gerevick yelled, his prior confidence gone.

"Where is he?"

"DON'T KNOW!"

"How did he approach you?"

"He offered me and my gang two hundred creds to kill you or bring you to him!"

"Wow, You ARE an idiot. The standard price on my head ranges in the thousands." Valia tapped his knees again.

"Please...no more pain...have mercy..."

"Like you would have given me?" Valia growled. "Yeah. Right."

Valia turned and looked at Shishida. There was an ugly blaster wound on the right side of her porcelain face in addition to the other wounds, and a number of holes peppered her torso. Valia could see all the way to the other side through them.

"You hungry, Shishida?" Valia asked.

"As a matter of fact I am," Shishida huffed, gesturing to her bodysuit. "As if getting a few tears in it wasn't enough, now I have this to worry about. I swear, nobody has any regard for another person's property. It's going to cost a fortune to fix this."

Shishida bared her fangs, which grew longer as her eyes glowed even redder than a Sith's blade. She bent down next to Gerevick.

"You really did bring this on yourself you know."

Her jaw then seemed to unhinge and with a feral snarl like that of some large beast she clamped down on Gerevick's neck, causing some of it to spray onto the walls.

The Rookie tried to look away from the brutal feeding and Mical's face looked pale as Shishida drained Gerevick of his blood, his body shrinking from the loss. Finally, she got up from the now dead merc, her jaw locking back as her face returned to a normal state-besides the red patch of blood covering her chin. Her wounds seemed completely healed.

"Shall we go on?" she asked Valia, who hadn't blinked the entire time. She had seen this act enough times to be dulled to its horror.

"Yes, we should," Valia grunted as she handed Shishida a piece of cloth. Shishida wiped the blood from her face, blinking innocently as though she hadn't done anything more than get a glass of water.

"His blood tasted like dish soap," she grimaced. "Barely strong enough to heal the wounds."

"What the frak!" the Rookie exclaimed, holding back her disgust-and desire to vomit.

"Don't feel sorry for that scum," Valia chided. "He had it coming. He tried to better himself by feeding off of us. His death was almost poetic. Galaxy's better off. Shishida practically did this world a public service."

"We should split up. I'll go and look for this Vrook fellow, Old Friend. You should look for that other Sith Lord." Shishida bowed and with a happy go lucky whistle, walked off.

"Still worried about her, Bastila?" Valia asked.

"Oh, hell no," Bastila blurted, forgetting her manners.

Valia and company had made it out of enclave grounds and back on to the Khoonda plains when they saw him.

He was fully armored from head to toe, the color of all his equipment blacker than the night sky blanketing him, wearing a jet pack as he hovered in the air, his face covered by a mask with an air hose snaking out of it and into his stomach.

"So, that fool Gerevick failed, I see," he spoke with an electronic voice.

"You should not rely on others to do your own dirty work," Valia replied dryly.

"Ah, well, in any case, I did not expect him to survive. Hell, it was worth it just knowing he was going to get himself killed."

"I take it you're Shyrack?"

"Darth Shyrack," the Sith replied. "Lord Sion has placed his utmost confidence in me. And I will prove my worth by killing you! And then that pathetic little band at Khoonda!"

"This won't end well," Bastila said, pulling out her sword.

"Whatever," Valia snorted.

Darth Shyrack dive-bombed her. Valia managed to duck the first time-only to grunt in surprise as a hook fired from the back of his jet pack, catching her by the collar and dragging her into the sky. She struggled mightily trying to reach the line before they climbed to high up, but Shyrack kept making fast loops in the air to throw off her orientation. Valia let loose a bolt of lightning at her foe, but he sensed it and blocked with an outstretched hand, and did another loop in the air, yanking her violently and causing her head to snap back hard from the velocity.

"Oh, what's the matter? Not enjoying your flight? Fine, I'll just let you off." With that, Shyrack cut the line holding her.

For the first few seconds, Valia felt a flash of panic as she fell through the cold night air, Shyrack had managed to drag her up half a mile.

But Valia was not one to give up.

Concentrating, she turned and Force choked the flying Sith and dragged him down with her. The pressure she was exerting on his windpipe would suffocate him within seconds if he did not come back to finish her off.

Snarling and choking, Shyrack again dove for her, activating his short red lightsaber and pointing it ahead of him.

"That's right, you bastard. Come and get me!" Valia snarled as she fell, the cold from this high up beginning to take effect.


	14. Lost In The Snow

Valia Renn twisted out of the way as Shyrack's lightsaber zipped past her, and the glowing blade barely missed her chest as she continued to fall. She dare not lose focus on his windpipe as she Force choked him. If she stopped, she would die.

Sure enough, Darth Shyrack made another pass for her, his lightsaber prepared for a swipe to her head.

When he got close enough, Valia twisted out of the way of his swipe, grabbing onto his jetpack's straps as he frantically tried to shake her off by doing loops in the air. But Valia held on doggedly and began punching him.

Shyrack hit a device on his belt. It emitted a high pitched whine. The sound irritated Valia, who was unsure whether it was meant to signal for help or to stun her. Either way, he was going to be dead in a minute or so. Valia slammed her fist into his mask, wrapping her fingers around the air hose to suffocate him. Shyrack yelled in frustration.

Valia slammed her elbow into him, hard enough for Shyrack to become dizzy and send them both plummeting to the ground at lethal speeds. Shyrack soon became conscious and pulled back up, making her stomach lurch.

"You're dead now!" he yelled, again doing a loop to try and toss her. "My brothers are on their way as I speak."

"Fine! I'll kill them too!" she roared back at him as she tried to strangle him. She managed to get a good grip on his throat and pulled out her knife, trying to stick it into his mask as the pair flew through the night sky.

It was a complete surprise when a pair of muscular hands ripped her from her prey, and Valia felt a flutter of panic as she felt gravity began to pull at her

Shyrack's minions had arrived. They were equipped in almost the same way he was, save, that their armor was dark blue and their jet packs seemed slightly smaller.

Before the minion could drop her to her death, however, Valia twisted herself from his grasp and managed to get her hands around his neck. He began a spiral try and shake her but she held on, righting each other in mid air on a straight flight pattern. She brutally headbutted her new transportation, knocking him out cold. She pulled out her blaster and fired at a minion who had been speeding towards her, lightsaber raised. His head popped like a melon as the bolt hit.

Out of the corner of her eye, Valia saw more of Shyracks minions speeding towards her with their jet packs, intent on pulling her off this one as well. Knowing she couldn't fight all of them, Valia instead used her strength to force her captive minion to fly to the others. Just a few seconds before she reached them, she broke her captives neck and leapt off of him, letting the dead body slam and explode into two others.

Time crawled to an agonizingly slow speed, as Valia pulled out her knife, jamming her knife into the forehead of the third which she took as her next means of remaining in the air. Righting herself, with her positioned precariously on the dead minion's stomach, she used the knife stuck in his forehead as a makeshift steering handle as she turned back to the fight, intent on making Shyrack next.

But Valia spotted a threat from below. A minion flying up towards her as five more charged at her, trying to trap her between two angles of assault. One of the minions charging at her flung his lightsaber at her.

Valia snorted, grabbed the hilt as it flew past her, and flung it back at him, decapitating him. The body began to fly to the ground.

The next few seconds were critical. Valia drew her sword in a lightning fast motion, and leapt off her ride, plummeting to the minion below her, who she decapitated and grabbed onto in another super fast motion. The minions who had been charging right at her hesitated, having not clearly seen her opponent's demise. Valia made them pay for their hesitation. Yelling a oath too vile to repeat, she drew her pistol and fired at all three of them, at the same time desperately dodging their return fire, knowing one stray shot would be all that was needed to turn her into a fireball. She fired madly; igniting the fuel in one of her enemy's packs and making him explode, taking out the remaining two as well

This gave Shyrack the chance he needed.

Swooping down, Shyrack pulled Valia off the dead minion and tried to drop her yet again, but her survival instinct kicked back in and she held onto his left arm with a death grip.

"Impressive. An ordinary person would be worm food by now. You are indeed a worthy opponent. I've never lost that many minions before."

"Rude awakening, ain't it?" Valia grumbled, reaching for his belt.

"Not really." With all his might, Shyrack finally tossed her off of him.

Valia grinned as she fell.

Darth Shyrack was puzzled as he saw Valia plummet to the ground. Why was she smiling?

The he heard a beeping noise; he looked on his belt and saw that Valia had made one final gesture of defiance.

She had activated one of the frag grenades on his belt.

Shyrack sighed. "Oh, sh-"

The explosion from Darth Shyrack killed three more of his minions who had grouped around him. Valia gave a grunt as a part of his arm flew past her.

Valia took a look below her as she fell. There was no way she could survive a hit to the ground, but there was a large lake close to where she was about to hit. Just maybe...

Valia tried to steer her way through the air, spreading her arms to increase drag. And then she began gathering the Force around her body, straining from the effort. Even the best Force armor might not be enough to survive an impact from the water from this high up, but she had to try.

When she was thirty seconds from the ground, Valia's life began flashing before her eyes. Strangely, there was one memory she settled on...

Dantooine, 19 years ago...

It was not long before Valia spotted an absolutely fuming Atris and a rather cross looking Kavar. Valia thought Atris might start yelling at her.

"Do you realize you just insulted my Master in front of the whole class?" she sputtered.

"I did not insult him, Atris. I criticized him. There is a difference. An insult would be calling him and old, wrinkled, nerfherding Laigrek."

Though Kavar tried to remain very stern, for just a second Valia saw a small smile in his eyes. Then his gaze hardened as he spoke.

"That was very unwise of you. Where do you get off making such a baseless accusation?"

Valia paused, turning to Atris. "Atris, will you do something for me?"

Atris eyed her suspiciously. "What is it?"

"Could you walk about five steps and then stop?"

Atris did as she asked, seeing no reason to object, though she was still wary.

"What was the point of that?" Kavar asked, unsure where this was going.

"Look at her stance. It is hard to spot unless you are really paying attention. Her gait and walk were almost exactly the same as Master Vrook's when he was asked to leave. That was how I saw how he was training her. There's a flaw in her footwork when she tries to move to the left during combat. Vrook had it and he passed it on to Atris," Valia answered, thankful her ability to read movement was strengthening as the days passed. A few days ago, she would not have noticed the flaws herself. Working in nameless kitchens in Coruscants underbelly had eroded some of her sharpness, despite sincere efforts to retain it. But now it was back. And stronger than it had ever been.

Kavar studied Atris closely, looking as though he might be considering the argument. Then he turned back to Valia.

"Hmmm. maybe so, Padawan, but you were still exceptionally rude to Vrook. Remember, he is on the Council, and you do not want him to hold you in disfavor any more than he already does. You do have a place in the Order, but you have not found it yet and your blunt manner of speech does you no good. Tread lightly, Padawan," Kavar said with as much academic disapproval he could muster.

Valia, instead of arguing with him, stayed silent. The man had a point, her blunt nature had indeed caused her problems before, and might yet again, and Valia didn't want him angry at her-he had shown her too much kindness in steering her to the Jedi. Kindness she would be sure to repay.

"I understand, Master. I will not do it again in the future."

Kavar still looked cross. Valia wondered if he might yet punish her. But his gaze softened.

"Good to know. Remember, you were extremely lucky that you were not disciplined: more so now that I have decided not to either. You must learn your place," Kavar finished.

"I will, Master,' Valia replied, relieved.

Kavar's demeanor shifted from disapproving master to intrigued teacher.

"But, aside from that verbal bout with Vrook, I was very impressed with your combat ability: You learned your lessons well. What was that style you were using?"

Valia looked at him quizzically. "It was Soresu."

"If it was, Valia, then I have to say that was the strangest version of the style I've ever seen," Atris commented. "Cariaga is the fourth best duelist in the academy: Defeating her is no small effort considering she used that odd tonfa weapon. I mean, you just swatted her around like a fly. I know for a fact you injured her so greatly that she won't be allowed to participate in the tournament."

Valia caught the wary look in Atris' eye, and was discomforted by the fact it looked all too much like fear. Valia began to wonder if Atris held a concern for Cariaga that was detached from her association with Revan's clique, as she was usually quick to approve any action that hampered Revan's chances. But not this time.

Atris at the moment...almost seemed like she was scared of Valia.

It was not something Valia welcomed. That look of fear had been in the eyes of too many who had faced her. She did not want old habits starting up with her new friends.

"I...apologize for that. I...sometimes forget it isn't a real duel." Valia's eye darkened for a second, trying to compose herself.

"Even so, try not to injure anybody like that again. You'd be amazed at how unpopular that makes you," Atris responded.

Valia blinked. "Did you just make a joke, Atris?"

"No," Atris said. But even as she answered, Valia saw some cheer return to Atris' face.

"I see. I will try not to."

"Well, then now that that is settled, Padawan, I would like to see you in the training area. I'm curious about the Soresu you used," Kavar said, relaxing himself.

"Very well, Master." Valia smoothed her robes, turning to Atris. "I'll see you later."

Atris nodded and headed off to the students quarters to began assigning chores for the students in this wing while Valia walked away with Kavar.

What Valia saw in the training area with Mical shocked her.

Mical was sparring with Alek-and doing poorly.

But Mical was doing poorly _on purpose._

Valia assessed the boy's style. It was deliberately belabored, designed to fool an opponent into carelessness. Whatever Mical had up his sleeve, it was very, very nasty. Even she had been fooled.

Alek, however, was not entirely taking in by the ruse. He had been probing Mical's tactics for the past five minutes and had discovered the fatal flaw. As much as it was designed to fool the opponent, one had to be doubly careful against a fighter who wasn't fooled by the feigned weakness. Unless Mical showed his hand now, he would be staring at the business end of Alek's lightsaber.

Alek knocked Mical to the ground. So the boy had decided to be reserved. Good, Valia thought, taking a good look at Mical's lightsaber, a simple, yet elegant hilt with some delicate runes etched into the emitter shroud, gold in color. The orange blade was compact and clearly defined, showing an excellant choice in focusing crystals. Besides Revan's, it was the best lightsaber hilt she had seen so far. The boy certainly had taste...and more than a fair amount of cunning, which was good for a prospective warrior.

"Hmm...I don't know if it's such a good idea for you to participate, Mical. To be honest, I'm surprised you passed the requirement class! Unless you're fooling me somehow?" Alek asked with amusement.

"No, Y-you're too much for me," Mical stammered, careful to look defeated.

"Well, as long as you practice really hard, You should be alright. And look who it is!" Alek said, spotting Valia, looking like he was ready to drop to his knees and worship the very ground she walked on. "The bloody hero of the hour!"

Valia snorted in mild derision.

"I'm a bit curious to know what you could possibly mean by that, Padawan," Kavar asked sternly, his gaze indicating that Alek had better explain himself.

Alek stood straight and folded his arms behind his back. "My and Revan's feelings toward Master Vrook are well known. I do not think it wise to go into detail beyond that."

Kavar continued to stare at him sternly for a moment but then sighed. "As you wish."

Valia, who had been watching the whole exchange, suddenly got the feeling a great deal more had been communicated between the two than they were willing to let on.

"So, you hear to train?" Alek asked hopefully, breaking the strange moment. "That was the weirdest Soresu I've ever seen anybody use. I'd love to test it, if you would indulge me."

"I'm afraid Padawan Valia will have to pass this time. I am increasing her training," Kavar said.

Alek's face fell a bit. "Oh well, all right then. Perhaps next time?"

Valia nodded wordlessly. Alek grinned and walked out. Mical smiled at her before he too left them to the circular training room by themselves.

Kavar took out one lightsaber. A blue blade shot out. Valia made note of the hilt design. It was straight, simple, with a dark blue finish to the metal.

If it hadn't been for the finish, it would have looked remarkably like her own. But she had built it before she had even met him, so it was little more than a coincidence.

"Tell me, Valia, where are you from?" he asked casually, going into an Ataru stance.

"Far off," Valia answered the sounds of battle starting up in her head.

"Oh, I know that. It's clear you aren't from Coruscant. So where, exactly?"

"From...the outer rim," Valia answered uneasily, images of fire and death swelling in her head.

"Do you have parents? A mother?"

"I do not see what this has to do with my training," Valia said.

"What, I can't get to know my own student?" he asked with a laugh. Valia could tell the laugh was a bit strained. Forced. It was odd for him.

Valia suppressed a sigh. Now she was making her own master uncomfortable.

There should always be trust between a Master and an Apprentice. Her old masters, as brutal and unrelenting as they had been in their instruction of her, had nonetheless earned her respect. They demanded much, but gave much in return.

It should be no less with Kavar.

"My...mother died during birth. I was raised by my stepmother and father," Valia answered as they clashed for the first time, the blades grinding against one another.

Strangely, Kavar's face seemed to fall at this. Then he asked another question.

"Tell me about them,"

"It...is difficult for me to speak of them. My stepmother I could probably talk about. My father...no. My hatred for that betrayer knows no bounds. I...I get rather worked up and I see red when I start thinking about him. He gave me this, you know," Valia said bitterly, gesturing to her eye patch.

"Tell me about your stepmother."

Valia paused, perplexed. Something was wrong here, but she didn't quite know what that something was. Shouldn't they be sparring?

Whatever. For some reason, she didn't feel like being her usual evasive self.

"She was a-a kind woman. Raised me as her own. I never saw all her face-she wore a shawl over the top half of it-but I knew she had a mother's concern when she looked at me. Her name was...Katsu."

Kavar nodded. "Go on."

_What the hell is he asking for?_ Valia wondered.

"I don't know why I can still speak of her...she...betrayed me too, didn't she?" Valia wondered aloud. Suddenly, she felt this haze in her mind that had been getting stronger these last few seconds fade away.

"What was that?" Kavar asked, his face betraying some confusion. "You okay?"

"I...nothing. Let us practice, Master," Valia replied, readying herself.

The pair trained for the next two hours.

Valia exited the training chamber wearily-she had to give it to Kavar, the man knew how to train people when it came down to it. Every muscle was sore from the lightsaber drills he had put her through. It was a good kind of sore, though, shaking her from her steadily growing complacency in the Enclave. She hadn't been this sore since training on her homeworld.

The hall still had a few students milling about in the sub-level. Valia pulled her heavy outer robe close to her. Why was she so cold all of a sudden?

Perhaps it was the adrenaline, but even so, Valia thought somebody should raise the temperature.

The students gave her a wide berth as she passed by them. None of them were too eager to chat with someone who could put down one of their own so quickly, so brutally.

Come to think of it, she HAD been a little tough with Cariaga. Back home she was always taught to take duels seriously: Serious injury was often quite common, but not out of maliciousness. It was only to make the student fight better. Valia snorted as she remembered home, remembered the brutal training methods of the masters of her clan. She had strived so hard, harder than the rest, to prove herself a warrior, especially to her father. All for nothing.

She took a glance around at these other students. So at ease, so well fed. Not like back at home, where the students heads were shaved bald, the customary dots painted onto their forehead to denote their level of training. The more dots one had, the higher the level. The highest amount of dots one could have was nine.

Valia had had nine dots by the time she was twelve. She remembered the long hours of students huddled together in the blistering cold of the mountains, exposed to the elements, allowed only a simple bowl of vegetables which they were required to wash in their daily trek to the ice-cold river near the training grounds to purify their spirits of pent up anger or frustration, remembered the long hours of sticking her hands in red hot coals to cleanse her mind of distraction and to strengthen her hands, or slapping a metal plate for the same effect. By the time she was twelve, her Masters had decided she was ready to learn their most ancient techniques. The art of Force fire and Force freeze had been imparted to her easily. Her old masters, if any of them were still alive (which she hoped was the case) would laugh at what the Jedi called "training".

Valia shook herself out of her reverie. She was not home, and her new masters were not her old ones. She should not be so judgmental.

Above all, she had no place else to go.

Valia decided she would make amends and pay a visit to Cariaga and apologize as an adult would. Because if she could not start doing things like that now, there was no way she would do them later in life, which was something Valia desperately did not wish to happen. Perhaps later she should give Cariaga new weapons. She'd have to make them though, and it would take days.

Back home that always smoothed over disputes between neighbors.

Her plan set, Valia increased her stride and headed for the infirmary on the other side of the Enclave.

She had just reached the exit to the sub-level when the feeling of cold increased.

Valia sighed. Perhaps it was just her adrenaline.

She hit the button to open the door and stepped out into a blizzard. She looked behind her, the Enclave was gone. It was just another blinding field of white. She looked down at her hands. Everything had lost color.

Her whole world was now black and white. The wind whipped her face, making it go numb in seconds.

Valia blinked at the strange new predicament, the illogic of it starting to anger her and began shivering. What the hell was going on? Was she hallucinating?

The snow stung at her cheeks. It was as though she had stepped beyond a threshold into another time and place altogether.

Valia looked around. Empty. Almost like a nightmare she had where she dreamt she had found nothing but wailing, sobbing versions of herself dressed in white and wandering a snowfield with shattered swords strewn about.

Who knows? Perhaps she was having the same nightmare, though she had certainly never heard of having a nightmare while awake. Then again, stranger things had happened to her.

"Little girl all lost in the snow. Even should you escape this blizzard, you have no place to go," said a deep, bass tone.

Valia wheeled around.

He was clad in heavy looking frosted silver armor with a long black kilt completely covering his legs from all sides. A silvery chainmail hood covered his head, and his face was covered by a bone white, skull like mask with deep red lines above the eyes like drips of blood.

"Who are you? I demand to know why you have brought me here," Valia growled, reaching for her lightsaber, the ruthless cold reaching the marrow in her bones.

The figure knelt down on bended knee, to her utter surprise.

"Forgive me, Milady. I am Lord Ptolemus. I have been searching for you for a long time."

Valia gripped her weapon. "Why? I am of no interest to you. You have the wrong person. Go back to whatever master you serve and tell him you were mistaken.

"I am in the service of no master. I am the master, Milady. You are perfect."

Valia snorted at this, disgusted by the notion. She was not perfect, she was a killer. "Perfect? You have some strange ideas of what is perfect."

"Your blood is perfect, Milady. Your creation, your existence, is perfect. I do believe you are the only one of your kind who ever has been. Such a one as you does not belong among Jedi. You belong with those who can understand you, help you understand yourself, Milady."

"I take it you wish to capture me? You will not find it easy, whatever you are."

"Capture you? Forgive me, Milady, but I do think you are mistaken. I do not seek to capture you. I seek to rescue you from these backward Jedi who will not understand. It is through you that our Order shall rise to prominence again."

"Order? What order?"

"The Order of the Sith Philosophers, Milady. I am Lord Darth Ptolemus."

Valia laughed, actually laughed, at this, lowering her weapon.

"Leave me be, Sith. A fool like you is not worth the effort to kill."

"I am not your enemy, Milady."

"You're no friend, either."

"I would prefer your cooperation, Milady, but I have seen your stubborn nature. Do you know why you are in this blizzard?"

Valia got serious again.

"No, but I suppose you will tell me. I'll kill you soon enough anyway. Bury your head and your body in two separate places so you cannot enter the afterlife intact."

Darth Ptolemus shoke his head, as though saddened that she prodded him with such foolishness.

"You injure me with your harshness, Milady. I have trapped you in your own mind. The minute you stepped out of the sublevel, I took control of your motor functions. You are marching to a departure shuttle as we speak."

Valia's eye blazed with the promise of death.

"Die," she snarled, her lightsaber flashing on. She gave a conservative flourish.

Darth Ptolemus pulled out two lightsabers. A regular one and a short one, their hilts both disturbingly similar to her own. A sickly, diseased blue shot out of both of them, and instead of the hum from a normal lightsaber, there was a crackling that Valia felt down to her spine.

"You will only mentally exhaust yourself, Milady."

Darth Ptolemus leapt for her, Valia twisted out of the way and bashed her lightsaber blade against his own, and then backing away from the lightning quick thrust from his short blade.

"You shame me into harming you, Milady," he said in an almost bored manner.

"Get out of my mind!"

"Milady, it's for your own good! The Jedi shall label you a threat should they ever discover the truth about you. I am amazed Vandar has not acted on what he already knows!"

Valia took a nasty swipe for his neck, but Ptolemus backed out of the way, bringing down both his sabers at the same time and knocking Valia to the ground. Valia sprung back up swiping viciously, expending energy, the cold taking root each time a little bit further.

"Milady, why do you continue to shame me? You are mentally exhausted from your practice with the Kavar fellow. The cold must be affecting your judgment."

"I am not so WEAK as to be brought down by the cold!" Valia snarled, landing a series of brutal vertical attacks with her blade that caused Ptolemus to make an X with his weapons. Valia persisted, pouring more energy into the attack, eager to break his guard and gut him like a fish.

The cold began to numb Valia's skin. It was colder than the river she had once ritually purified herself in. It amplified her rage, her hatred.

_Focus! This is YOUR mind! NOT his! _Valia thought angrily. She steadied her breathing and went into her Soresu stance.

"Aye, your strength is impressive, Milady. Your swordsmanship much finer than the Jedi who run this school. May I inquire of Milady as to where she was trained?"

"Shut up and fight."

"Aye, once more, you injure me, Milady." Darth Ptolemus resumed his combat stance, a modified Jar-Kai style, by the looks of it, and attacked.

Valia countered by shutting off her lightsaber and delivering a roundhouse kick to his face. His short saber was knocked somewhere into the blizzard. Her hands assumed a pincer shape as Ptolemus got to his feet.

"You do not belong with them, Milady. You are a Firaxa amongst Manaan carp. You will never be fully accepted by them," Ptolemus stated, picking up his regular saber and assuming a Makashi stance.

"And you'll accept me? You don't even know me, Ptolemus."

"Aye, but I am willing to give you the acceptance they will not. They are nothing but universal peace mongers growing increasingly distressed by the fact that their order must employ violence. I promise you, one day they will decide they have had enough of war and lay down their lightsabers, whether the Sith are destroyed or not. The Order has use for one such as yourself. We accept those who will accept us, train those who come to us without any of the unnecessary restraints the Jedi impose, who would teach you to walk only to break your knees. Jedi would teach you to make a fist only to tie your hands. You need not accept only the Dark Side, as the ignorant call it. You can enlighten yourself in any area of the Force you wish, so long as you exercise prudence and not over extend your reach. Through this you shall attain power. Through this you will bring peace to the galaxy."

The pair stared at each other, guarding wearily. Ptolemus had managed to get her to stop fighting, which was no small achievement given how many had tried this tactic with her before only to find themselves impaled

"Why do you need me?" Valia asked in spite of herself. "There are others who are stronger than I am. There is the Nosferan, Revan, for example."

Ptolemus paused.

"Is that what her species is called? Curious. Alas, while Lady Revan is indeed stronger, you, Milady, are a revolution. You are proof that we need not accept every whim of the Force."

"What do you mean?"

"Alas, Milady, I can say no more. You must come to us if you wish to learn more."

"How many more are there?"

"We are legion, Milady."

As though summoned by his admission, other figures emerged from the blizzard. Some dressed in black or dark blue robes or variations of the silvery armor Ptolemus wore, but all wore those same skull like masks.

"Come to us, Milady. Should you refuse us, I'm afraid we would have to resort to more drastic measures next time around."

"You will not. There is no need."

Darth Ptolemus' stance betrayed that of someone hopeful. "I take it you submit to our adoption then?"

"No. There is no need for you to take more drastic measures next time because there will NOT be a next time," Valia replied. "Now fight."

Darth Ptolemus sighed.

"So be it."

Valia charged made a series of vicious stabs and swipes. There was no holding back now, no relying on Jedi art forms. This was about winning.

To his credit, Darth Ptolemus held his own for about a good twenty seconds, parrying madly with his blade, but the exotic and lethal nature of Valia's training began to were him down. She moved and struck as a beast, each move economic, each strike meant to kill as quickly or as painfully as possible. Her moves didn't look like anything the Jedi taught. The Jedi would turn away from such a style. Her moves would have reminded any onlooker of a Rancor in the fits of a rage as she swung with such ferocity that at some point one would began to question whether or not she was human at all. Ptolemus now realized how in danger his life was and began to fight for it, swiping as quickly as he could without losing track of where his blade was going. Valia dodged it, at one point using her pincer move to rip a chunk of his armor off and some flesh along with it. Ptolemus yelled in pain but fought on desperately, trying each style he knew and quickly realizing that she was overwhelming him no matter which one it was. His blade never seemed to hit Valia. Wherever he was sure his blade had a hit, he would quickly find her gone from the place he swiped instead frantically defending a part of him he had left exposed to attack.

And then finally, he could do no more. Valia dodged his lightsaber one last time and severed both his hands by twisting to the side.

Valia ripped his saber from his severed hands and held both her blade and his own in a scissor motion against his neck.

"Told you I was gonna be burying your head separate," she snarled.

But before she could deliver the killing blow, she found herself back in reality. Master Vandar, Master Zhar, and Master Quatra were standing over her. Master Vrook soon entered

"We felt a dark presence in the school," Master Vandar explained. "You were nearly on a departure shuttle."

"Where am I?" Valia asked.

"You are in the infirmary. You have been for a day," Master Vrook replied. "I have been conducting an investigation since you were out cold but now that you are awake, perhaps you could answer a few things."

"I could," Valia said. "But I want to know something first. Who is Darth Ptolemus?"

Vandar and Vrook exchanged looks. They both knew the answer, but neither were willing to give it.

"It cannot be him," Vrook said quietly, his tone one of disbelief. "He's dead. He's been dead for years."

"Perhaps Darth Socratus-" Zhar began, his face one of grave concern.

"We will discuss this later," Master Vandar said sternly, knowing it was not a discussion for Valia's ears.

Valia watched as the pair left.

"You should rest now," Zhar said. "Your friends will be up here to see you soon."

Valia nodded, suddenly feeling exhausted after the very, very bizarre ordeal. She laid her head down on the pillow of the cot, playing the fight in her head over and over.

Who was Darth Ptolemus? And who were these Sith Philosophers, and what was she to them?

Valia closed her eyes, trying to take her mind off the evening by trying to remember the time Katsu had taken her out to the woods of her home world, Tython, for meditation. Valia remembered falling asleep in Katsu's lap.

With that, Valia began to drift off...

Present day.

Valia hit the water.


	15. Who Watches

Kreia had followed the battle in the sky with bated breath, and seeing her student fall to her potential death had sent a wave of terror through her.

If the Exile died, Kreia's hopes would die as well.

She had led the group to the lake and had been the first to dive in to save her student. Mical had been second and after a few panicked seconds; they both came back to the surface with a limp Valia in tow. Setting her gently back onto the ground, Mical began performing CPR.

"How bad is it?" Kreia demanded to know.

Mical didn't answer. He kept trying to get air into her lungs and only stopped when she coughed up some water finally. She was still heavily injured though and soon slipped back into an unconscious state.

"She'll live. She must have wrapped herself in the Force just before she hit the water. Otherwise it would have been like hitting cement from that high up. I'm amazed she has no damage to any of her major organs. All she broke was an arm and a leg."

"Will they heal properly?"

"With a few months, yes."

"We do not have a few months," Kreia snapped. Speaking no more, Kreia set her will upon Valia, flooding her body with the Force, which it seemed to take in greedily.

Mical brought out his medical kit and began treating the abrasions and bruises he spotted, giving her a few stims to stabilize her condition.

The Echani walked up to him.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm treating her. She sustained quite an amount of damage. I'm thankful she's alive at all."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"I appreciate the offer, but the best thing you can do is just leave this to us. We'll get her fixed up," Mical answered reassuringly.

The Echani paused but after a moment nodded and stepped back.

Bastila stared at the inert figure of Valia, and that little piece of Revan's soul spoke up.

_I never would have suspected her of being the one who tried to kill me. But now that I think about it, it could never have been anyone else BUT her._

"Oh, please, everybody knows hindsight is twenty-twenty," Bastila said under her breath.

_You seem a little bit nonchalant about this._

"I've been through too much."

_What do we do about her, now that we know the truth?_

Bastila turned away from the group and asked as quietly as possible "What do you mean?"

_I mean should I take her up on her offer of her life?_

Bastila's face scrunched up like a Kath-pup.

"Have you learned nothing?! You're no blasted saint either!" she whispered angrily. "No matter what role she played in your life, you ultimately chose to act like a schutta and subvert the Republic! I don't recall her forcing you to do anything! Take some damn responsibility! Didn't you hear her? She isn't one of them anymore!"

_I...suppose you have a point. I'm surprised you are coming to her defense though._

Only because I believe what she said. She was _scared _of losing _everything. _Just as you were!"

The piece of Revan paused at this.

_I never looked at her explanation from that point. Still, for what she did to Alek...I don't know if I can forgive that..._

"We all do stupid, evil things sometimes. And considering who I am arguing with, blasting your boyfriend's jaw off isn't exactly too high in the ultimate scale of things."

"Excuse me," the Rookie asked, her eyebrow raised in curiosity. "Are you talking to someone?"

"Uh, no. Just...thinking out loud," Bastila said quickly.

_Alright Bassie, you made your point. I'll...observe her, for now. See if she is really sincere. _The piece of Revan said before going silent.

Bastila turned back and watched Mical and Kreia still tending to Valia.

"Okay, I think that'll do it. She just needs to rest now. Is your ship nearby?" Mical asked about five minutes later.

"Our ship is at the landing bay next to that old estate," the Rookie replied.

"It'll be a bit of a walk then," Mical frowned. "We'll have to carry her. But we must be delicate or we risk injuring her again."

"The task need not be so clumsy," Kreia said. With some concentration, she lifted Valia up gently with the Force.

"Tiny Jedi, I suggest we take turns holding her up so we don't tire ourselves out."

"Agreed," Mical nodded. he turned to the others. "Is everyone ready?"

The group nodded. Mical set out for the Khoonda plains, leading the group.

As they walked, Mical drifted back to another time Valia had needed his help...

Dantooine, 19 years ago...

Mical too, had felt the dark presence in the Enclave. He could not determine the source, meaning whoever it was, was quite skilled at hiding, but not enough to avoid being noticed completely. Revan had apparently sensed it right before he did and had immediately hurried to prevent her kidnapping. She had summoned the other Masters and Vrook had personally launched an investigation into the dark presence. They had been ordered to keep away until she woke up, and now that they sensed her awake, going to her was the only thing on their mind.

Mical himself was familiar with the technique used to control her. He himself was skilled in it. Not that he would ever dare let that fact slip, or that his last name was Hord.

Mical stole a glance at Atris as they headed for the infirmary. She had a look of concern he had never seen on her before. He felt her quaking with worry.

Making their way past the students on the other end of the Enclave, Mical was the first one into the infirmary and spotted Valia resting calmly on the bed, rubbing her temple.

"I was so worried!" Atris spoke first, going quickly over to her side. "Are you alright?"

"No. I have a headache and I feel like I have consumed alcohol, which is anathema to me," Valia answered.

Mical was quickly going over the mental checklist in his head. Grogginess, check. Headache, check.

"Feeling drained?" he asked innocently. "How many fingers am I holding up?" He held up two.

"Four. And I could use some rice. And tea," Valia answered.

Double vision, hunger, check. Yes, it was definitely the same technique.

"What happened?" Belaya asked.

"Some bastard name Darth Ptolemus tried to kidnap me by hijacking my body."

Atris' mouth went open.

"A Sith? But there are no more Sith! There haven't been since Exar Kun!"

"Looks like they missed one," Valia replied. "Any of you know who he is?"

"No. I'm not familiar with the name, but I could get permission to look into the Jedi archives from Revan's master! She oversees access there," Atris offered helpfully.

The blood from Mical's face had drained. Darth Ptolemus was alive!

Mical knew the name. Ptolemus had been a plant inside the Jedi Order. Trained by Darth Kashtu herself.

_So the Order of the Sith Philosophers is not dead. And they are interested in Valia! But why? Why would they risk exposure prematurely to get just her, however unique she is? _Mical wondered.

No matter the cause, it was clear Valia would need his help. If anyone could help her shake off a Sith Philosopher, it would have to be him, a former Sith Philosopher.

Mical's stomach grew queasy at the thought of all the dark teachings he would have to dig up.

Atris brought Valia her rice and tea and soon Valia was eating ravenously.

"You had a close call, today, Valia, I want you to take it easy," Atris requested.

"I don't see why everyone is so worried. I drove Ptolemus out of my mind. By the way, when is the tournament?"

"It has been delayed, due to the presence of the Dark Side," Atris answered. "You should take the threat seriously."

"I did. That was why I won."

"Nevertheless, the danger is real," Mical warned. "You've become a target. And whether this Ptolemus fellow is actually a Sith or not, the fact he was able to get into your mind suggest we are dealing with a powerful Dark Sider."

"Did he say why he wanted you?" Atris asked.

"He said I was special. Said I was...perfect. I honestly think his definition is a little bit flawed."

Mical tried to keep his mouth from dropping. _Perfect?_

In the Sith Philosophers, the word "perfect" was code for someone who had been-

"Students, I understand your concern, but Valia needs her rest," Zhar spoke, interrupting his thoughts. "I believe it would be for the best if you returned to your rooms."

Atris nodded. She left Valia's side and led the group out.

Mical continued walking once they reached their rooms. "Aren't you tired?" Atris asked.

"It is still light out. I'm a bit hungry, need to get something in me before I sleep," Mical replied, lacing his response with Force persuasion.

Atris' eyes glazed over as her mind was overcome by it.

"I see. Try not to be out too long. We have a busy day ahead of us tomorrow."

Mical nodded.

As Mical walked the darkening hallways of the sub-level, he quickened his pace, doubling back to the infirmary, enshrouding himself in the Force, so no one would detect his presence. He needed confirmation on his suspicions.

He spotted Vrook and Vandar and immediately reassessed his objectives. Perhaps they had more information. Darth Ptolemus had supposedly been slain by Vrook personally, and Kashtu had been Vandar's last Padawan.

Still, they were powerful, and he didn't know if he could evade their senses. He would just have to hope they would assume that lightning didn't strike twice in the same area. He followed behind them, slightly pleased they were oblivious to his presence, right into Vandar's meditation chambers.

Mical glanced around. Vandar had exquisite taste. He had the room decorated with local flowers and the lightsabers of famous warriors-Jedi and Sith alike-adorned the chamber. Some paintings of the landscape of Dantooine apparently done by Vandar personally hung on the walls.

"Are you sure we should keep this from her?" Vrook asked uneasily. "This is her safety we are talking about. She may have a tongue on her, but I do not wish misfortune on her any more than any other student."

"Understand your concern, I do. But the truth would only confuse her," Vandar replied. "Valia was brought into the Order for her own safety."

"If she is anything like-"

"Like her, Padawan Valia is not. You have seen this for yourself," Vandar dismissed.

"Indeed. She is crude where the former was more sophisticated. Blunt where her creator was eloquent. Would it not be better to tell her the truth though, so that she does not stumble blindly into danger?"

"What you see of Valia is only what she lets you see. It is a carefully designed...performance. To make others dismiss her. But though she is very intelligent for someone of her age, the danger the Sith Philosophers pose is simply too great. In case you did not notice, Padawan Valia takes an opponent very seriously. And if we tell her the truth we know, what is to prevent her from seeking them out to verify what she has been told. Besides, Darth Ptolemus was always the most dangerous of Kashtu's apprentices. He will try to capture her again, and soon."

"The thought of that...nerfherder being in this Enclave will leave me awake at night. I was suddenly looking at even Zhar with suspicion. It is indeed fortunate that Revan was meditating and detected the threat. Makes her useful for something."

"Trust Zhar, we can. Trust Zez-Kai-Ell, also. And you should not be so hard on Padawan Revan. She has always tried to please her masters and learn."

"Master Vandar, she is one of the most insufferably arrogant people I have ever had the misfortune of meeting. Were it not for her frighteningly high Force potential I would have voted that she not be accepted into the Order at all. Perhaps I should have voted to keep her out for that very same reason. She reminds me too much of my old master Kashtu in that she is always questing for more and more knowledge of the Force, more than is wise. I am no longer sure that the Order can afford to constantly train sensitives whose great potential cannot be kept in check by either us or other Jedi. And I am not sure Valia will fare any better if, as you say, what she presents to us is but a mask for her true self."

"It is indeed a mask, but Valia I sense has one trait that Kashtu used to have before her fall: Loyalty and the ability to follow orders."

"I have sensed something of a military background to her movements as well. Despicable to turn her into a soldier at that age."

"Regardless, that training may prove useful to us. The Sith Philosophers have made a critical error in this venture: We got to her first. You have seen the lethality in her movements, have you not?"

Vrook grimaced. "I hope you are not thinking of using her as a weapon. This is not what the Jedi are supposed to do with their students."

"Believe me, I take no pleasure in this suggestion at all. But Valia has the training and at the moment she is on our side simply because we have accepted her for training, not because she is truly an adherent to the Jedi way, though she wants to be."

"Are you saying that she will stay loyal to us regardless of whatever offer the other side makes?"

"That is exactly what I am saying. Once she accepted us as her masters it instantly negated any chance the Philosophers had to recruit her. She will not listen to them because in her mind, they are simply stepping stones for her to prove her own loyalty. Obstacles or tests that have been placed in front of her."

"Such discipline-it is not natural."

"I agree, but it is what we must work with. After all this is done, then we can focus on training her to think for herself properly," Vandar replied. "Please trust me, Master Vrook. Though it sickens me to my heart to utilize Valia as a blunt instrument we have no other choice. Her Force potential and level of skill are very high, and we will need that as bait to make the Sith Philosophers come to us so that she can strike them down. And with Revan's abilities-"

"No. I may be accepting you argument for Valia in a limited manner but I will not put Revan within speaking distance of them. She is tempted too easily for her own good."

"If Revan is not put through this trial now, at an early age, where she can see the effects of the Dark Side herself, than it will never be safe to put her through anything."

"I always objected to you giving her to Kreia to train."

"Kreia is wise and rejected Darth Kashtu's offer as well. I am still perplexed as to what happened to your friendship with her."

"Kreia almost gave in. I never trusted her afterward. Me? I never considered Kashtu's offer to join her for even a second. Neither did Jolee. And that was back when he still had some sense to him."

"The three of you worked together to stop her. It is safe to trust her. She has become a great and powerful Jedi."

"For the moment."

Vandar sighed. Vrook might very well never get over his mistrust of every Force sensitive besides himself or Vandar.

"And Dorak?" he asked impatiently.

"Hmmm...unknown. Some worries of Quatra, I also have."

"Kavar?"

"He was the one who brought Valia here. We can trust him."

"Hmmm...I am not sure about Kavar," Vrook pursed his lips in dismay. "I'll keep an eye on him. I have not reached my old age by ignoring my suspicions of others. If I am wrong about people in the end than I'll accept that. Until that one time I am proven right. If there was one lesson Kashtu gave me that I took to heart it was to NEVER take people at face value, for you may cultivate what seems a flower only to find that you have raised a scorpion. Kashtu was my scorpion, along with any who would follow her."

Vrook sighed and went over to own of the display cases.

"It seems almost like yesterday, that the Jedi were fighting to survive. So long ago that one of our very best turned on us, betrayed everything we believe for her insane experiments. What happened to us?"

"Fate happened. Bad luck. Worse decisions," Vandar answered glibly.

"When Kashtu turned on us, I thought the world had turned upside down, at first," Vrook sighed, removing a lightsaber from the display case. "Her Philosophers waged war in a way we were completely unprepared for. She waged war on our beliefs. She waged war from the inside. How many Senators did she have working for her?"

"Seventy," Vandar answered.

Vrook examined the lightsaber he had taken out of the case. "This was the only thing left of her after that last battle on Rhen Var. Jolee Force-pulsed her into oblivion. Why do you still keep this thing?"

"Still look at it, you yourself do. Why?"

"Maybe, because..." Vrook exhaled. "Maybe I want to remember happy times. Maybe I want to remember who she tried to be."

"As do we all,"

Mical couldn't get a good look at the lightsaber Vrook was holding. He dared not get closer, huddled in the corner as he was.

"I haven't been able to locate the source of the dark presence," Vrook continued.

"Expect you would, I did not."

"So we just...wait? Wait for him to try and snatch her again?"

"Ultimate failing of the Sith, Master Vrook: Cannot appreciate how vigilant their enemies can be."

"I suppose you are right. Still, I do not like the idea of leaving Padawan Valia in the dark. Kashtu's Sith were always more dangerous than Exar's. Kashtu, I hate to say it, had a vision, while Exar ended up being nothing more than your typical conqueror with delusions of grandeur."

"Failed, Kashtu did."

"Barely. With Exar, you knew he would end up losing: He didn't have the intelligence or the man power, and he wasn't much of a strategist to boot. All he had were a few dirty tricks, which he quickly ran out of. If you ask me, his reputation was a lot more than it actually deserved to be. Kashtu however-victory was like the edge of a coin with her. I do not think Valia understands how dangerous it has become for her."

"You should not worry about her. She can take care of herself," Vandar's old eyes twinkled with life as he said this.

"I hope so, for all our sakes," Vrook replied. "I will inform Kreia of the situation."

"Do as you must, Master Vrook."

Vrook set the lightsaber down on a nearby stone table and left.

"Finished eavesdropping, Padawan Mical?" Vandar said aloud, a slight smile on his face.

Mical went rigid. He quickly uncloaked himself.

"How did you-"

"I have big ears," Vandar answered. He waddled over to him. "Eavesdropping. Good for young Padawans, it is not."

"I-I apologize, Master Vandar. I want to protect Valia too. You are the one with all the information. I will submit to any disciplinary action," Mical said with his head lowered.

"Jump to conclusions, you must not, Padawan. I may have a use for you yet," Vandar replied, letting out a chuckle. "Sith Philosophers-a twisted reflection of our own Jedi Order. They, unlike their violent mainstream variant, have forsaken the desire for empire in turn for the creation of a 'Sith Republic', where the Force would be used as a means of economy and method of research, along with the right for anyone, anywhere, to use the Force as they wish without fear of reprisal. Yet know so little about their inner workings, we still do."

"I-am not sure if I can help with that-"

"Pretend you need not. It takes powerful training to fool Vrook," Vandar replied flatly. "The truth is written on your face. You were once of them."

"I...I..." Mical stammered. Then he stopped, and resignedly got on his knees, his head hung in submission to the truth.

"Forgive me, Master Vandar. I have lied to you these years I have been here. I...just wanted to feel safe again. My family is dead, killed by a rival faction of Exar Kun's Sith Remnant. I was trying to put the past behind me. I figured that the Jedi would be worth a try. I abandoned the old ways and shook off my last name. Please understand, I really was trying to be a Jedi. I still am."

"Understand, I do," Vandar replied, sighing. "We all run from our past at some point. But we must all face it eventually. I will not punish you, as you were trying to see to Valia's safety. But task you, I will."

"What is your bidding?"

"A close vigil on Padawan Valia, you must keep."

Mical nodded, standing up. "I will do so immediately."

"Discreet in your task, you must be, Padawan Mical. But I have faith in you. The other students trust you...or overlook you. You can move about without drawing attention."

"I will not fail, Master Vandar. But I am familiar with Darth Ptolemus' tactics. If I must resort to...methods, to combat him successfully-"

"I will...try to look the other way." Vandar assured him.

Mical straightened up and smiled. "Thank you, Master Vandar, for giving me this opportunity to redeem myself."

Vandar nodded. "You should go back to the Student Quarters."

"I understand," Mical replied. Before he left he remembered the lightsaber Vrook had left on the table. His curiosity overwhelming him, he approached the table it had been laid on, picking it up.

It was smooth, unadorned, and had plenty of scratches on its surface. Simple looking.

It was exactly like Valia's, save for the activation plate near the top.

He hit it, and a beautiful viridian blade shot out. He looked at Vandar in surprise. Vandar turned away, unable to gaze at it.

He turned it off and quietly exited the chambers.

Mical's vigil, as far as he was concerned, began the moment he exited Vandar's chambers. He immediately headed to the infirmary to check on her one more time. He stopped when he heard voices. Immediately cloaking himself in the Force, he headed forward, not even breaking stride.

"It seems you were right about Valia being someone to watch, Rev," Alek said as he walked with Revan quietly down the hall. "Even so, I do not see how it justifies such intense scrutiny. Even from you."

"You don't think encountering someone who is just under me in terms of strength in the Force, and yet seems to operate in a completely different manner from me worthy of observation, Alek?" she asked. "Alek, I never-not once-thought I would encounter somebody like her. You don't seem to appreciate how special she is. I mean, whoever wanted to capture her thought as I do."

"I got a good look at her Force aura. Strong shielding. Likes her privacy. A raging inferno, though. Her power is like spilt fuel...it gets on anything, it can and will burn. I still don't understand why you are so interested in her. I just think she's an anomaly."

"Alek, I love how you can be so nonchalant about encountering a powerhouse. Whatever would I do without you?"

At this, Alek swept the white haired, ruby eyed Revan into his arms. "You'd probably be a great deal more bored. Maybe you would take up sewing."

Revan laughed and kissed Alek gently.

"I hate that I can't do this with you all the time," she said quietly. "But getting back to the subject..."

"This again," Alek grumbled a bit. "So she's just underneath you in terms of the Force. So what? Sometimes Swirling Force is just that: Swirling Force. It doesn't really have to mean anything."

"But don't you see Alek? It has to. I mean, why would the Force see fit to have us meet if it didn't mean anything?"

"Meet? You call what took place between the two of you a 'Hey, nice to meet you!' sorta thing? The girl doesn't like you. For what reason escapes me, since you have such a way about you-"

Revan smiled a little. "It was a mistake to rig the whole thing. I see that I should have listened to you. But I was certain she wouldn't introduce herself of her own volition."

"I think I'm beginning to see why you want to get to know her so bad," Alek replied. "You've been at this level of power that is unheard of for so long that almost everybody is treating you with this strange deference other than me. They see only your power. That power which, combined with everything else that makes you so adorably special-" at this Alek took her into his arms again "It isolates you. Makes you think nobody understands. And then Valia comes along and suddenly that peak you've been set up on doesn't seem so lonely. Am I getting warm?" Alek asked with a crooked grin.

Revan hooked some of her hair behind her ear. "Once again I have underestimated your perceptiveness."

"No, you just overestimate your ability to not be an open book to me," Alek replied, kissing her. "But if you really have underestimated my perceptiveness than listen well to what I say: Valia is very dangerous. A trained killer used to brutality. You may think I tend not to heed my lessons very well but I take my swordsmanship very seriously. I saw her using moves I have never seen used by any Jedi I have ever encountered. You would do well to take caution in cultivating any sort of friendship with her. As you yourself said, Valia operates in a manner completely different from yourself in terms of the Force. Whoever was her instructor previously honed her to the point where I think even some of the masters could be killed by her. And I suspect that the only reason she does not attack you, my love, is that you are both-marginally-on the same side."

"Why would she want to attack me?" Revan asked, puzzled by Alek's assertion.

"When she approached at first on the plains, I saw her whole body tense up. Like she recognized what you were. Like she has seen your type before. That may decrease once she finds out it was you who alerted the masters to her attempted kidnapping."

"All the more important to develop a rapport, than, if you are right," Revan replied.

Mical frowned as he listened to the exchange between the now confirmed lovers.

They were nosy, those two, but they might prove useful in providing a vigil over her. Revan seemed to have much invested in it. He had half expected to have a second failure in cloaking himself. But in all honesty, Vandar was over six hundred years old: He would have to have seen every trick in the book by now. And Revan, while possessed of more power than the masters here, had a great deal to learn clearly before she could spot someone like him.

Mical decided to get back to his quarters and filed away the information he had learned for further processing.

The next day, he immediately headed for the infirmary only to freeze in horror at the sight before him.

It was them. They had been summoned here from Coruscant, likely by Vrook last night, to investigate. They must have just arrived this morning.

It was Bron-Son Kenobi and Dimmak. The pair had been the bane of the Sith Philosophers and Exar Kun. Dimmak, though holding the title of Jedi Master, was little more than an assassin: The first of Darth Kashtu's experiments that had been turned against her by Jolee Bindo. However, he was rumored to possess a very simple, almost childlike personality for all the incredible power and lethality he possesed. His bandages-Miralukan Prayer Wrappings infused with Force energy to hold back his genetic degradation-had always terrified his enemies when they caught sight of his mummified appearance. He was also rumored to have collected more enemy lightsabers than any other Jedi in the Order.

Bron-Son Kenobi too had a reputation-Darth Kashtu had supposedly once called him "The dirtiest player in the game." Where Dimmak's specialty was outright murder of the target, Kenobi was more subtle. He specialized in laying traps and was supposedly the Orders premier expert in psychological warfare. Another thing that contributed to his deadly nature was that he refused to engage a Sith on their terms. He rarely wore the costomary robes of a Jedi unless given no other choice and was said to be the only man in the history of the order to never have eliminated anyone using a lightsaber-he liked his blasters, or, failing that, objects in the environment. He reputedly thought of lightsabers as "Clumsy and random."

If they were here, there was no way that this whole ordeal wasn't going to end in a bloodbath, Mical thought as they headed to the chambers of Master Vrook.

Present day.

"Tiny Jedi."

Mical was shaken out of his thoughts and turned his head to Kreia.

"I am becoming tired from holding her up. It is your turn," she said irritably.

"Very well," Mical replied, lifting her up with the Force as Kreia finally released her hold on Valia's body.

"Everybody, we're almost there. Just a little bit more," he encouraged, finally spotting the Matale estate in the distance.

"There's a med bay on the ship where she can rest," the Echani offered.

"Perfect. The Jal-Shey are probably busy tending to their own wounded," Mical said. The group finally made their way to the squared off landing area and after making it past the bodies, Bastila walked foward and waved at the window.

The ship lights turned on and Atton ran outside to meet them.

"What the frak happened?" he demanded. "And who the heck is the blond guy?"

"Mid-air duel. Fell from a half-mile up," Bastila answered. "This man, Mical, saved her life, with Kreia's help."

Atton paled. "Well dammit, get her on board!" he yelled running back up the ramp as the group quickly and carefully followed him, Valia in tow.

The group quickly settled Valia onto the medical bed and Atton attached some needles and wires to her skin.

"She'll live. We healed the broken bones. She just needs to rest now," Bastila said reassuringly.

"After falling from half a mile up, you should be lucky that's all she needs," Atton snorted. "When do you think she'll wake up?"

"I don't know. I think she needs about a week,"

"I hope we have that much time," Atton replied dryly, leaning against the wall of the med bay.


	16. Uninvited

"Fool."

Atton opened his eyes, blinking them a few times as he got up from the collapsible chair he had lain just outside the med bay and stretched.

"Whadda ya want, hag?"

"Has there been any change in the Exile's condition?"

Atton stared at Valia's inert figure. The monitors were beeping softly.

"No change, as far as I can tell. She's been like this for the past three hours. Blondie comes in here to check on her once and a while, gives her something out of his kit. Other than that, nothing."

"You will inform me of any change in her condition."

"You care so much about her you can get up off your wrinkled butt to see for yourself," Atton snorted.

"Ah, because you are under the Exiles' protection you think you are able to defy me at your whim, hmm?" Kreia asked a trace of amusement in her voice and a sneer on her face.

"Think? I _know _I can defy you. If you got a good look in my head you'll know I used to kill you Jedi bastards all the time. I was good at it too."

"Yes...and now you are in a most interesting predicament because of your actions. Tell me, do you see their faces all the time?"

"W-what do you mean?"

"The ghosts, Atton. The ones that order you around all the time. Don't you wish you could get rid of them?"

"That's none of your business, witch," Atton replied as the ghost of one of his more violent Jedi targets started encouraging him to punch her in the face.

"I can make it my business, murderer."

"You wouldn't dare. You know what Valia will do. You know what I'll do."

"Try to break me? Murderer, I have been broken one too many times. I emerged stronger for it each time. Is it too difficult to ask for a status report? I am not young. I cannot sit in a chair like that too long or stand still."

"You aren't that old either."

"You do not have the skill or means required to break me, Atton."

"I won't bother torturing you. I can drop you here and now, if you like."

Kreia's hand took on a clawed gesture. "You would challenge a master? I am not like those paltry Jedi you have killed over the years. I will not hold back against you."

Atton drew his blasters. "Go ahead and try it, your majesty. You can join the ghosts too. Every single last frakking one of them. Maybe I'll see you out of the corner of my eye once in a while."

"That is quite enough, I believe," a cultured voice announced from behind them.

The pair turned. Mical had his hands in the shape of hooked talons, and between each finger was crackling orange lightning.

"I do believe you two have lost your heads. Do you realize a fire fight would damage the equipment on the ship and possibly upset Valia when she wakes up? Need I remind you she has a rather short temper for this sort of nonsense?" Mical asked.

"She started it!"

"Tiny Jedi, the fool is clearly the instigator-"

Mical cut them off. "I don't really care who started what. What is important is that we are all going to calm down and walk away. Or I can take you both outside where we can iron out our difficulties the hard way. And we don't want the hard way, now do we?" Mical asked in a friendly manner. There was no mistaking the authority in his tone, though.

Atton and Kreia both stared at him and then each other.

Slowly, Atton put his blasters away. Kreia lowered her hand.

"Good. Now apologize to one another, like adults."

Kreia stared at him. "It is inadvisable that you push your luck in this manner, Tiny Jedi."

"Lady Kreia, I am afraid that I must respond that you are not the only user of the Dark Side," he replied, the lightning arcing between his fingers growing more intense. He blinked and for a moment his eyes took on a terrible sulfurous color before he blinked again and his eyes had returned to their normal blue. "Now, apologize."

Kreia paused before turning to Atton.

"I...apologize," she said, the words hissing out through gritted teeth.

Atton snorted. "I apologize for the fact the Force made you such a hag."

"Atton!" Mical warned.

Atton stared at him. "That's about as much outta me as you're gonna get, Blondie. Take it or leave it."

Mical sighed and then lowered his hands.

"Very well, then. You both may depart, if you wish."

Kreia left for her chambers.

Mical sighed and then checked on Valia's condition.

"How's she doing?" Atton asked.

"Better than I expected after falling from half a mile up."

"Okay, what is it with this whole 'half a mile' crap?"

Mical explained in detail what had occurred. Atton was wide eyed at the end.

"She surfed a dead body on a jetpack?"

"Yes. Essentially. It's not the craziest thing she's done by far. I remember this one time she took a Sith as a hostage and cut his ear off. With a fork."

"What, you knew her or something?"

"Yes. I have the distinction of being one of the few people Valia considers a friend."

"What did you have to do to earn that estimation?"

"Many things. Watching her back though helps."

"I take it you're coming with us?"

"That was my intention."

"But we're full up. Having any more people means more mouths to feed. It slows us down. You may have your freaky little lightning power-whatever it is you are, but we're fine."

"If that battle with Darth Shyrack is any indicator, you'll need all the help you can get. Really though, shouldn't this be up to Valia though?"

"Ehhh...maybe," Atton admitted. "So, when did you go dark?"

"Dark?"

"You know, the whole can of Sith lightning you were about to pour on Kreia."

"Oh. That. I haven't gone dark. I just kinda-slip, once in a while when the situation warrants it."

"You must slip all the time, then," Atton grunted. "I'm going to get back to sleep. You do what you gotta do." He sat down on the chair and closed his eyes.

Kreia made it into her chambers only to find Bastila in the middle, meditating.

"That's my spot," Kreia stated, a hint of irritability in her tone.

Bastila looked behind her and quickly got up. "Sorry. It is crowded in here and for some reason I can't fathom, Valia assigned me this bunk to sleep in. Probably because she still hates me but I don't want to jump to conclusions. I'll be going now." Bastila rose from her position and quickly made her way for the exit.

Before she reached it however Kreia spoke. "I take it you are going to make every attempt to avoid me, Bastila?"

"We don't really have anything to speak about," Bastila said.

"I disagree. I'm sure you have some interesting stories."

"We don't have anything to talk about, as I said. As I recall, I was the one who helped get you exiled. I can hardly imagine your feelings toward me being amicable."

"It was years ago. I got over it. Betrayal is one of those unfortunate realities in life I am required to accept simply because I cannot change it. It is not as though any harm can come from talking to me."

"Kreia, whatever I may think about what the Jedi Council has become, I helped exile you for what I still feel were the right reasons. If you had just moderated your beliefs just a tad, we wouldn't have had the rather awful situation afterward. But no, you had to fill student's heads with a lot of esoteric nonsense half of them couldn't even understand. And the ones who did try and act on what you taught them ended up becoming destroyers, like Revan. Like...Malak."

"Ah, still you hold to your flawed judgments of Revan. To have seen the contrast and gathered nothing from it-your failure is now complete. It pains me to think how you could have been as great as Revan and yet, in the end, ended up being just another sycophant, spouting the Jedi Code without really 'getting' it."

"Loyalty is not a failing. But for your information I am no longer loyal to the Jedi Council."

"Of course loyalty is not a failing. I never said so. But one of my biggest criticisms of you was that when you give your loyalty, you tend to give it blindly."

"Wait, I'M the blind one?! Speak for yourself! For all your powers of Far sight you couldn't see Revan going over to the darkness! Way to drop the ball, Kreia!"

"The future is a shifting thing. Who ever really knows how it may turn out? And are you so sure Revan had fallen?"

"She fell, believe me. She fell, because she interpreted you in entirely the wrong manner. The Jedi didn't need teachers spouting some unreachable higher meaning. They needed people who would shut up and do their damn job like the rest of us. Because of you the Jedi lost one of their most promising to the bloody Sith. If you had been content to teach her the right way, the _practical _way, we wouldn't be in this mess. We're on the run, hiding like dogs because people like you can't learn to leave well enough alone!"

Bastila leaned against the wall of the dormitory.

"Maybe...maybe it would have been better if we had never trained Revan. Maybe we should stop training until we know our methods are safe. Look at us...we can't train them right, we can barely stop the rowdier padawans. And we always have to keep our eyes on the most powerful. Why is it we keep recruiting people we know we will never be able to control when we really need to? We take them from their cribs, we marvel at their strength in the Force, and then when they turn out to be sociopaths like Exar Kun, we ignore our own failing. Maybe we shouldn't train people like me. We're too powerful for our own good. We never learn our lesson. We just repeat the same mistake over and over again," Bastila finished.

"You are conflicted. I am hearing two different arguments from you. On one hand you say Jedi need better safeguards against succumbing to temptation and then you say perhaps we should no longer be training at all. Which is it?"

"I don't know anymore!" Bastila almost shouted. "I've been so upset with the Jedi I'm not sure what I should do! Maybe it's the indoctrination they give all of us, maybe it is my own stubborn nature but whatever the reason I haven't managed to squirm my way out of it!"

"Still with your issues. You have much to yet overcome," Kreia replied dryly. "You wouldn't by any chance know where Revan has gone, do you?"

"Last I saw her she was locking sabers with Carth Onasi," Bastila grimaced. "It's a long story and I really don't have time to elaborate on it. I'm going to get some food from the supplies and-" Bastila stopped, peering around "Did you feel that?"

Kreia paused, stretching out her perceptions. There was something wrong inside the ship but she wasn't sure what. It was so faint...

And yet...powerful.

"We must search the ship immediately," Kreia instructed. "Get your weapon."

Atton had just begun dozing off when the voices started again.

"Get up, Atton. There is something on the ship," one of the Jedi ghosts, a Kel-Dor, said.

"I'm not getting up for anything other than a Twilek as hot as Raya Secura."

"Stop being lazy and get up."

"Why don't you do it?" he asked groggily, eyes open now.

"Because, you idiot, we can't. We're stuck in you, remember?"

"Oh, yeah," Atton grumbled. "What's the frakking problem?"

"Not so loud! You don't want the others to think you're crazy, do you?" the Kel-Dor asked.

Another Jedi ghost appeared, a Zeltron with blue hair, thin, wiry, and female.

"Atton you have to get up. The Exile is in danger."

"From what?"

"Something that is on the ship."

"Any ideas on what it is? It would help."

"We are not sure," the Zeltron Jedi replied. "We only know that it is on the ship."

Atton cursed under his breath but then rose from his chair, still tired.

"Oh for Force's sake!" said another Jedi ghost, a human man with dreadlocks and a goatee. "Just do the task, already! Search the ship so we can go back to sleep!"

"Alright, alright, I heard you! No need to get loud!" Atton said as quietly as he could. He began walking around the ship when he noticed-or rather felt-that something did indeed SEEM wrong, but he wasn't sure what.

The air felt too heavy, like there were somehow more people on the ship then there should be.

"Huh, that's weir-" he started to say.

"ATTON! DUCK!" the Zeltron Jedi yelled.

Atton ducked as a crimson lightsaber sang past the area where his neck had been just a moment ago. He spun around only to catch a boot to his face, knocking him back and giving him the beginnings of a headache. He spun back up and dodged the lightsaber screaming for his heart. He grabbed the slender arm, twisting and flipping his attacker onto her back, but she Force pushed him back and leapt back up, her lightsaber in a guard.

Atton finally got a good look at her. She wore some type of shawl over the top half of her face and was dressed in a tight fitting robe like article of wear that looked like it was made of rancor leather, with a bit of red showing through it. The rest of her face, from what little of it he could see, wasn't half bad.

"Great. A Sith. Kick her ass," the dreadlocked Jedi encouraged. "She's using a modified Shien technique. Let her come to you."

"Are you crazy! She'll chop him up! Atton, get as far back as you can and call for help!" The Zeltron Jedi said.

"I disagree. Engage her, but at a distance," The Kel-Dor Jedi insisted.

"Will you frakking idiots shut up?!" he yelled.

The Sith woman gave a quick glance behind her and cocked her head in curiosity before focusing on him.

She then held out her hand.

"Atton," Girh Ro Lat's ghost began, shaking his head. "Brace yourself. This is going to hurt. A lot."

The lighting erupted from her fingers but was blocked by an acid red blade.

"I don't think so," Mical said, charging.

The Sith woman barely managed to bring up her guard before Mical's lightning quick overhead strike brought her to her knees, his blade scorching the hull. The Sith woman rolled out of the way as he brought his blade down for another overhead strike and tried to whip the lightsaber towards his ankles but he backed out of the way and unleashed multiple bolts of orange lightning, which the assassin countered with her own lightning.

"Surrender immediately!" Mical commanded.

The Sith said nothing but with a final exertion managed to Force push him back into Atton.

The Sith struggled back up, managing to catch her breath only for a second before she felt her throat constricting.

Bastila had her hand clasped tightly, intent on choking the life out of her. Kreia merely stared at her, with an expression of piqued curiosity.

Desperate, the Sith gripped the chair Atton had been sitting on with the Force and flung it at her face, breaking her concentration as she evaded the makeshift missile.

Kreia let loose a bolt of lightning at the Sith but the Sith dodged it, Force pulling her lightsaber towards her and made a mad dash past Mical for the medical bay-

Only to run into a clenched, scarred fist and a green eye flashing with rage.

Valia slammed her fist into the Sith, ripping her lightsaber away and kicking her into the holographic map console. Not giving the assassin a chance to breath, she rushed up and kneed her in the stomach, then picked her up with one hand and tossed her into the bulkhead face first. Valia then pounced on her again, grabbing the Sith's neck in a pincer grip and slamming her other fist into the Sith woman's cheek with the other over and over. The Sith, to her credit, struggled in the grasp but her strength and grip on the conscious world began to fade against the power of Valia's merciless blows.

Valia Force gripped the lightsaber, intent on delivering the finishing blow by shoving it right through the Sith's face when she finally got a good look at her.

The manner of dress...it was familiar. Too familiar.

The only other time she had seen this kind of outfit was when she had been tutored by her stepmother.

Valia's grip on the blade wavered. She debated the possible merits of sparing her. It might gain her some information. It might also get her killed.

The Sith had shown remarkable skill evading detection as long as she had. She must have been on the ship at least an hour and a half. Such skill was commendable. And she had managed to survive Bastila, Kreia, AND Mical-which was no small feat.

If this one could be made to work for her-she would be a powerful ally.

Valia knelt closer. "Do you yield?" she hissed.

"I...I..."

Valia kicked her in the stomach. "Answer quickly. I am not noted for my ability to wait."

"I...yield, Master. It is as I heard, through the Force."

Valia grabbed the Sith by the throat and lifted her up off the ground. "Who sent you?"

"My master. He sent me when he felt you through the Force...when I heard you. I followed your echo here," the Sith gasped.

"Do you wish to die?"

The answer surprised Valia.

"Y-yes. But I would rather prefer death at your hand. Any death my master dolls out would be endless."

"I have no interest in executing you-yet."

"You 'must'. I cannot kill you. I do not even wish to. Kill me."

"Why? You fear being punished by your master that much? Who is this master of yours? Sion?"

"He...he is the darkness in which all life dies..."the Sith's hand reached for Valia's face. Valia tensed, at first expecting some last minute assault, but she did not sense such intent from the woman. She tightened her grip just in case, however.

The hand touched Valia's cheek and lightning flashed through Valia's mind.

The world distorted, lost color for a second, the ground twisting and warping underneath her and the people around her began to take on these odd hues of color. Atton's was a bright swirl of colors, though none of them looked like they could belong to Atton, it was almost like they each had their own signature. The Sith's was a dark, murky grey color, and Valia felt a wave of hopelessness swell up from the color as she dropped her.

And just like that, it was over. Her vision returned to normal as she shook her head for a second. She stared at Atton. "Get her to the med-bay."

"Well? Will she live?" Valia asked.

"You ain't gonna believe this. This woman-she's a Miraluka," Atton replied.

"A Miraluka, you say?"

"Yeah. They claim to 'see' through the Force and all that crap. Gives me the creeps. I heard Revan tried pretty hard to recruit the Miraluka to her campaign. Never could find their home world Alpherides, since they keep the location secret. They had a few colonies, though, and those all resisted her violently. I...heard the Sith losses were pretty terrible," Atton finished cautiously.

"This is the first time I have ever seen a Miralukan Sith. Some Miralukans become Jedi, but Sith? That's...a new one," he added. "I think she'll be alright. Even with the beating you gave her. She looks like she's been through her own share of combat."

"Let me know when she wakes up. I have uses for her."

"Whoa. Are you really gonna do this?"

"I'm not sure I understand."

"This whole 'try to turn her' thing! Miralukan's are really hard to kill. I...heard tales of them. They aren't easily swayed once they decide a course of action."

"Didn't you hear her? She clearly has no desire to serve her old master any longer. She practically declared herself a free agent."

"I hope you know what you're doing, Valia. If you're wrong, you'll be waking up to her feeding your face a lightsaber."

"Leave that to me," Valia replied. "Keep watch over her."

"Err...alright, if you say so."

Valia nodded and went to check on the Rookie, who had an ice pack on her head. The Sith had surprised her and knocked her out.

"How are you feeling, Rookie?"

"I-I was practicing and I felt this breath on my neck. I turned around and I felt a sharp pain on my head. And then Bao-Dur was waking me up." The Rookie immediately stood, head bent forward in humility. "Valia, I have also been meaning to speak to you about the Iridonian-"

"What about him?"

"Is-is there something wrong with him? He keeps making these weird comments."

"Oh. That. What did he say to you?"

"I believe he said.'It's a good thing you can be revived after losing health.' What did he mean by that?"

Valia raised an eyebrow.

"Bao-Dur I suspect is...ill. Very ill. In the head. Come to think of it, I should probably have his head examined. I know some people who would be willing to take a look at him, but I'd have to get Shishida's permission."

"Okay, I guess," the Rookie replied before remembering what they had originally been talking of.

"I apologize for failing you. It will not happen again."

"You should not focus solely on getting your movements right. Also important is to expect attack from any angle. But you are untrained in dealing with telepathic attacks. It is no surprise you fell."

"But-I was trained to resist tricks of the mind by Atris-"

"Tricks are tiny little suggestions. And you are not weak minded. But you were also not trained to fend off the equivalent of taking a vibro-hammer to your mental landscape."

"What do you intend to do with her?"

"I intend to employ her services."

"But-she tried to kill you!"

"She is skilled at hiding from others and then attacking. She managed to at least temporarily fend off the most of the crew. And she has no desire to return to her master, whoever that may be."

"Is this wise? She is Sith. She is not trustworthy. She is a murderer just like the rest of them are."

Valia was surprised by the level of bitterness in the Rookie's tone. There was a unique viciousness to it, born of pain.

Valia brushed it off, she could ask about it later.

"I must ask for your trust in this matter. I will not neglect your training just because I am trying to convince her to side with us."

"I-I will listen, but I will not allow harm to come to you."

"That is all I can ask," Valia replied, heading to Kreia's chambers.

"I see you have spared the Miraluka," Kreia said without leaving her meditative pose.

"How would I go about turning her?" Valia asked.

"The Sith carry the battle to you and you spare them. It is unwise to lower your defense."

"How would I go about turning her?" Valia repeated.

Kreia sighed. "As far as I can tell you are already doing it. Simply continue on your course and you will appease her into being your newest servant."

"Humph. I'm no slave master."

"And neither are you a mere commander either."

"By the way, she did something to my sight-"

"I am not surprised. It is nature of the Sith, to force power crudely on someone or something. But to be truthful, she did not do anything to your sight that was not already there."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, come now, surely you've guessed. It frankly amazes me you could remain ignorant of your Miralukan heritage, especially considering that rather unpleasant business with Darth Kashtu."

"And what would you know of the incident, old woman?"

"A great many things."

"I do not care what that schutta told me. You should not either."

"I know only what I experienced Exile."

"I am not Miralukan. I have never heard of them before tonight."

"You are in denial. How else do you explain your assumed name, 'Wandering Sting'?"

"I used that language only because my stepmother taught it to me. I did not know that it, or she, was Miralukan."

"How do you explain the ease in which her ability was forced onto you?"

"I was unguarded."

"You seem to have an answer for everything, don't you. How would you perceive what happened with Darth Kashtu, then?"

"That would depend. Which side did you fight on?"

"I fought alongside the Jedi. I used to be one of their historians."

"Historians..." Valia trailed off a bit before it hit her.

"There was only one historian other than Master Dorak operating on Dantooine at the time. If you claim to be that historian, you are also staking the claim to being Revan's master."

"She was my Padawan, yes. Perhaps I should discuss my side of things. Sit with me."

Valia knelt down.

"My participation in those rather unfortunate circumstances began one dreary morning..."


	17. The Sith Philosophers

Dantooine, 19 years ago...

"I, too, felt the dark presence in the Enclave," Master Kreia said.

"Then you understand that things have become much more dangerous for everyone involved," Master Vrook spoke.

"I understand completely. Tell me, who were they trying to kidnap?"

"Padawan Valia Renn."

"Ah, the newest. But what would they want with her? Revan has told me of Valia's skill, but-"

"Look at her face closely and you will understand."

"I'm afraid I have not had the chance to see her in person. In truth, I only learned of Valia's duel with Cariaga second hand."

"Once you see her up close, you'll understand why it is essential we keep her out of their reach."

"I understand, Master Vrook. I will begin my watch over her immediately."

Master Vrook nodded and strode out of the archives.

"So, why is Padawan Valia so in need of protection?"

Kreia spun around. Revan was leaning against a table of old texts and books.

"You were listening the whole time? Without either of us sensing you?"

"Well you DID train me. You have to assume I'll learn a lesson well."

"Hmmm...We will have to increase your training," Kreia said.

"Who are the Sith Philosophers? You've never really talked about them."

Kreia sighed. "It is a long tale."

"I have time. Classes in lightsaber combat don't begin for another hour."

Kreia pulled up a chair. "Sit with me."

Revan pulled out a stool and sat down quickly, seemingly eager.

"A long time ago, there was a Jedi Master by the name of Kashtu. She was wise, she was charismatic. It is the same tragedy that befalls many of us. But more importantly, she was fixated on the idea that the Force could be utilized for a number of things such as genetic research. She was totally obsessed with the idea of immortality through the Force and, even more importantly, to create life from absolute nothingness. She felt the Jedi Order had grown stagnant, content not to explore the higher mysteries of the Force. She believed she could create a so-called 'chosen one' in this manner. Many masters were cautious and suspicious of her intentions, but for the few who were close to her-we loved her. There was seemingly no fact about the Force she did not possess. She had an almost encyclopedic knowledge of Force abilities and lightsaber combat, not to mention Jedi history. And she holds the distinction of being the only Jedi Master allowed more than one Padawan at any given time. I was her former Padawan, her first, along with Jolee Bindo, and for a time, our very own Vrook Lamarr."

"He sure fooled me," Revan snorted.

"We three were very close to her. Jolee, however, was the only one of us she ever bonded with. Those two understood one another in a way that was very difficult to understand to an outsider. I myself believed he loved her. Of course, he never admitted such a thing. Vrook might have too, although he would certainly never dare admit it now either."

"So what happened?"

"Like all great tragedies, it occurred of hubris. Kashtu grew impatient with the Order, and decided to take it upon herself to begin her own, secret experimentation. She circumvented the will of the Force. And as any Jedi will tell you, if you circumvent the Force, don't be surprised if the Force ultimately circumvents you. Anyway, after Force knows how many failures Kashtu finally succeeded when she used her own blood and created a misshapen horror that I know today as Jedi Master Dimmak."

"You mean...THAT Dimmak?" Revan asked. "I always wondered what was under those bandages."

"Yes. As I was saying, it was inevitable she would be discovered eventually. Jolee was the one who exposed her. When they tried to take her into custody, tragedy ensued on Coruscant...the fires burned for days on end." Kreia's slate grey eyes darkened at her memory.

"Afterwards, Kashtu was exiled from the order. We thought our troubles were over. We were wrong. Kashtu had grown angry with the Jedi, felt that their decisions had caused the disaster on Coruscant, not her. She felt that if the Jedi could not change their ways, they would have to be eliminated. And thus, Kashtu became the Dark Lord of the Sith. But she was different from the Dark Lords that had come before. Her encyclopedic knowledge of the Jedi and the Force gave her a supreme advantage over us. Worse yet, she decided to take us apart from the inside...recruit the strongest over to her in secret. She succeeded. We still haven't found all her agents. We still don't know who many of them even were. But the ones we did realize were connected to her hurt us very bad. She even had Council members in her ranks. Nobody knew who to trust. Nobody trusted us except Master Vandar, Kashtu's old master." Kreia shifted uncomfortably in her seat at the thought of the distrustful stares she, Jolee, and Vrook had received after Kashtu's return.

"Go on. What happened?" Revan asked, clearly fascinated.

"Jolee took it on himself to bring her down," Kreia answered. "And I think that is enough for now. You should prepare for your classes. But...perhaps there is a way you may aid me in my task, should you so choose."

"Of course. What would you have me do?"

"It occured to me that I do not wish to alarm Padawan Valia with my vigil over her. You could aid me in this task by keeping watch on her when I cannot."

Revan instantly perked up. "It would be my pleasure. She's...interesting to observe. She demonstrated a really strange style of lightsaber combat. It almost looked like Soresu-but I'm sure it wasn't."

"Oh? How was it so strange?"

"For one, it was really aggressive."

"Are you sure it wasn't Djem So?"

"Positive. It was too flexible. Too unpredictable. There is this...fog around her aura that my Force sight can't pierce either."

Kreia raised a brow at this. Few were able to hide themselves in such a manner. It had distinct advantages as one could never tell how strong the person was in the Force. It usually took years to learn.

How had a Padawan come to learn it?

"Hmm... you will have to show her to me. I will observe from a distance."

"Like I said, it would be my pleasure. I've never met someone who seemed so...powerful."

Revan and Kreia kept their distance following Valia and Mical to the new training room. Kreia noted how intently Mical kept observation of Valia, as though he too had been assigned to watch over her.

Instantly she saw what was so important about Valia. The features, the hair color, it was like looking into the past.

Upon closer inspection, Kreia realized her first opinion was not quite so accurate. The appalling number of wounds the girl tried to hide-either she was very sloppy or very unlucky. Given the way the girl held herself though, Kreia was inclined to think the latter.

What really distinguished her however, was the one working eye she had. It was full of barely contained aggression, like a chained Corellian Sand Panther. Kashtu's gaze had always been more reserved, full of patience, of calculation, almost peaceful.

"Told you she was strange," Revan whispered, sensing Kreia's thoughts as the pair took up seats by the door. She watched Valia and Mical take a seat at the front. Kreia watched as Valia's eye methodically scanned the room until her eye fixated on a figure in the back.

Kreia turned to see who Valia was staring at-and she went cold as she stared at Dimmak staring pointedly at Valia, head cocked quizzically to one side in...recognition.

"Whoa...I've never seen Dimmak up close before," Revan whispered. "Why's he staring at Valia?"

"Confusion, most likely. It's been a while since he's seen another of his kind up close. And if he is here it means Bron-Son is here as well," Kreia whispered.

"You mean the old guy with the bad haircut?" Revan asked as Bron-Son entered through the back of the room, Vrook following close behind. Bron-Son tapped Dimmak on the shoulder, offering him a snack of some kind, which the strange, mummified warrior snatched quickly, the bandages on his face untangling by themselves as he ate the snack ravenously. When he was finished, he let out a low hiss, likely of contentment.

Kreia, soon focused her attention on Arren Kae as she walked to the center of the training room

"I know some of you must be curious as to what is going on. There was an incident concerning one of your fellow Padawans. To avoid embarrassing the student I will not give a name, but the threat itself is from the Dark Side. I know many of you are only students, and that you are not truly ready to confront this threat; however I and all the Masters and Knights of the academy urge you to be vigilant. If you see or even sense anything unusual you are to immediately report to Master Dimmak or Master Kenobi. And starting now, always travel with a companion. No exceptions. For today however, we will be focusing on defensive forms, such as Soresu."

"We always focus on defense," Revan snorted, her voice on the verge of being contemptuous.

"Mind your place, Revan," Kreia whispered.

"Good morning, Master Kreia," said a hushed voice from behind.

Kreia spun around at stared at Kavar. He had a mug of caffa in his hand.

Strange, how had he managed to sneak up on her?

"Good morning, Master Kavar. I take it you are doing well this morning?"

"About as well as can be expected. I still can't believe I didn't sense my student in danger like that," Kavar said with a genuinely worried look in his eyes.

"The Dark Side clouds everything. We Jedi cannot be expected to foresee every danger; otherwise the Exar Kun war would never have happened."

"Still though. The thought of losing such a promising student-" Kavar let out a heavy sigh and his eyes watered slightly as he went on "-is unbearable."

Kreia touched his shoulder with genuine concern for the man. "All we can do is be vigilant for the future."

"You're right," Kavar straightened out. "That is all a Jedi can do."

Kavar walked away from her, his face still somber. He sat down on a bench a few feet away from Valia.

As soon as the class was over, Valia left, with Mical close by.

"You seemed perturbed today, kid," she noted.

"Oh, you know what the Masters, said. Always travel with a companion. Who better than you?" Mical replied off handedly.

"Hmm, okay. You headed to history class?"

"Yes. I love history."

"I as well."

"Really? Forgive me, but you do not strike me as the type."

"I was raised on tales of my ancestors. Great men and women who did great deeds for their people. History is an important part of the community where I am from. It gives us continuity, warnings about the mistakes we made, and are making, or will make. It also shows us what to reach for as a people."

"Where are you from, exactly?" Mical inquired, his curiosity piqued.

Valia paused a moment, then decided that there was no harm in saying the name.

"I'm from Ty-"

Valia stopped in mid sentence. There was something in the air that felt...wrong, somehow.

"Valia? What is it?" Mical asked.

"Something got real weird, real quick. It almost feels like...like..."

Valia suddenly spun around, throwing a knife she kept hidden in her sleeve into empty air.

To Mical's surprise, the knife impacted something, than he heard a gurgling noise as a robed Sith with a bone white mask appeared out of thin air. The Sith fell, the knife protruding out of his skull.

"Like we're being watched," Valia snarled. Mical got another surprise when she removed a flak gun from beneath her robes that had had the barrel and stock sawed off.

A large explosion rumbled over head, shaking dust from the ceiling. There were murmurs among the students still in the hall way. Valia glanced at Arren Kae, the last to leave the training room, and saw that a noticeable apprehension had crossed her face.

Another blast echoed overhead. Part of the ceiling collapsed close to the students and the screaming began shortly after. Arren started to bark orders and called for calm.

"Everyone head to the library! No pushing. Lock yourselves in and do not respond unless I or Master Vandar ask it. Move!" Arren ordered to the panicking students.

As the students filed into orderly rows to make the trek to the library Arren spotted Valia and Mical.

"You two should head there also. I'm going to try and find Master Vandar," Arren said to them, apparently not caring about the fact that Valia was clutching a loaded weapon. Without waiting for a response, she broke into a run in the opposite direction to find the head of the Enclave.

"Cover me, I'll lead point," Valia ordered.

"But Master Kae said-"

"That she did. But Atris is still out there, along with Belaya and the X. I want to make sure they are safe before I retreat."

Mical sighed, pulled out his lightsaber, and activated it. Valia hugged a corner in a passage way and peered around it quickly.

She saw only Atris and Master Vrook with his trademark scowl walking towards them, lightsaber in hand.

Valia lowered her weapon slightly and called out to them. "Master Vrook! Atris!"

"Padawan Valia, good, we were just look-is that a flak gun?!" Vrook demanded to know.

"Yes," Valia replied as though it was normal. "What, Jedi don't carry firearms?"

"Where did you get that?" Atris asked with what seemed to be mock surprise.

"I always had it. You can never be too careful. Have to be three steps ahead of the opponent at all times. Like now."

"So you were just walking around the Enclave with a loaded weapon?! Completely irresponsible!" Vrook scolded.

"Almost everybody walks around with high end energy weapons. Is there something I missed?"

"Weapons like this are clumsy and random. You're better off with a lightsaber."

Valia raised the weapon instantly and fired to the right of Vrook. Another Sith decloaked, his chest a mound of blood and gore. Valia approached the Sith as he was choking.

"How...how did you...?" he gasped.

Valia touched her nose. "You were sweating from the excitement at the thought you could not be observed."

The Sith gave a moan and then fell dead a second later.

Vrook stared.

"Hmm. I stand corrected."

A large rumble shook the sub-level.

"What is going on? Who is attacking us?" Atris asked.

"Sith, or as we like to say on the rim: Stabbing Receptacles," Valia said. "The Enclave is under attack."

"Damn," Vrook said under his breath. "We must see to your safety, Padawan."

"Master Vrook, everyone is in as much danger as I am."

"We cannot allow them to capture you. We have no idea what Ptolemus wants with you, and if you are captured-" Vrook stopped himself. "Go to the library databanks. That's where the other Padawans are supposed to go in the event of an emergency. That goes for you too Atris."

"Of course, Master," Atris said. Though her face hid it well, Valia could tell Atris was VERY irked at being told to go hide like some youngling.

"I will do what must be done," Valia nodded her head in agreement.

"I will try to seal the sub-level. Get to the library quickly. Trust no one. There may be more, but I cannot sense them." With that, Vrook departed for the entrance to the upper levels.

"Are we actually going to the library?" Mical asked Valia.

"Of course not. I refuse to hide like some defenseless youngling."

"Vrook gave us strict orders," Atris chided.

"Master Vrook does not strike me as a tactician. We need to clear the level of threats, establish choke points at the corners, fortify the library from assault-and that is only if they are not already in there. We need to clear the halls and search for any stragglers from our side."

Atris looked flustered, but at the same time Valia could tell she was practically jumping at the chance to do something.

"Alright, but no heroics. Let us just make this place secure and make sure we don't do something rash."

"Agreed. Atris, you fan out and find younglings. Mical will escort you."

"But you'll be alone!"

"Nothing I'm not used to. Go. I'm expendable. The youngling's lives are much more important," Valia ordered.

Atris and Mical reluctantly agreed and left.

Valia quickly made her way down the halls, using all five senses to scan for anything out of place. Nothing. It made her uneasy. Nervous.

Valia heard a crashing sound in a room close by. She raised her weapon and proceeded-cautiously-forward. The sound of overhead blaster-fire was beginning to reach down here.

No matter. She had failed her old home. She would not fail this one.

She poked her head into the entrance as it opened and quickly pulled it away as Dimmak and a Sith warrior with a lightsaber-lance crashed out of it. The lance user was on the defensive, pummeled by Dimmak's relentless dual saber attack.

Dimmak violently brought his weapons down on his opponent, making the Sith's knees buckle, causing him to drop to the ground with a weak guard until Dimmak finally cleaved him in two-and then cleaved his two halves into two as well for good measure.

Dimmak let out a large, snake like hiss as he deactivated his twin purple blades. He picked up the light saber lance and, to Valia's astonishment, shoved it into a mass of darkness beneath the bandages on his chest, where it vanished completely.

_A Manipulation! A product of the Black Arts! _Valia thought to herself. She had heard of the theory that such a creature was possible-to actually encounter one...

Dimmak turned to her and gave a hiss that seemed to approximate a greeting. Bron-Son Kenobi stuck his head out of the room Dimmak had been fighting in and gave a grin.

"Check his wallet," Bron-Son said. "He might have some creds."

"Master," Valia bowed.

"Well, speak of the Corellian Devil! Me and my buddy here were just looking for you! Dimmak was practically jumping with excitement when we were told about you."

"Told about me?"

Kenobi frowned.

"You mean they haven't told you? Ah, the damn Masters and their secrets. To hell with them."

"What secrets?"

"Aren't you curious why they're after you, One-Eye? You're a Glass Baby. A Test Tuber."

"I still don't understand."

Kenobi sighed. "You're like good ol' Dimmak here, 'cept you're better made."

Valia snorted. "Impossible. My mother died in childbirth. I had a father and a stepmother."

"Stepmother, eh? Lass, I think both I and Dimmak know a Test Tuber when we see one. Besides, you're in the spitting image of your mother, sans eye patch, age, and obvious damage."

"My mother? You knew her?" Valia suddenly felt a great weight on her chest. Though they were obviously mistaken about her being of the black arts, and more than likely about knowing her mother, the disquiet hit her hard.

No matter. She could investigate this at a later time.

"We need to secure the sublevel against attack and search for any of our own," Valia pressed.

"We had a similar idea. This poor dead sucker you see here was likely the last of them. Too dangerous to get more than a three-man stealth team into a building this size." Bron-Son smoothed over his bad haircut and pulled out his snub-nosed blaster. "Let's prepare a proper welcome for our good old dancing partners, shall we?"

"This is a very bad idea, Master!"

"Revan, you must locate Valia and protect her. If the Sith get their hands on her who knows what may happen," Kreia admonished. "I must retrieve my things and prepare for to aid the masters. Go!"

Reluctantly, Revan had left Kreia behind to locate her new charge.

Kreia for her part, headed back to her quarters. The quarters themselves were rather bare and sparse in design. There were very few trinkets lying around save for a small, locked black box. Kreia took the key from on top of her desk and quickly unlocked it, and stared.

A box that should have had three spare lightsabers was empty.

"Looking for these?" called out a deep bass voice.

Kreia spun around. Darth Ptolemus hovered in mid-air, meditating in a cross legged position, the three lightsabers from Kreia's box orbiting around him.

"Ptolemus. How many years has it been?"

"Too many. You should be more careful. Lightsabers are not something you just lock in a box to make secure."

"I thought Vrook killed you."

"So did Vrook. That does not change the fact that I live."

"How did you find out about Valia?"

"The Order hides few secrets from the Sith Philosophers. We are your reflection. We are what the Jedi would be if they had the courage to stop this silly theorizing on the nature of morality and just seize control for everyone's benefit."

"Still you cling to Kashtu's ideals."

"Still you cling to the Jedi. They do not deserve your loyalty. You are the Madame's first student. Many of the Philosophers modeled themselves after you in order to be the best possible heirs to the Madame's ideals."

"You are offering me a chance to join? Why? I helped kill many of you. I do not find the cult of personality that Kashtu contrived to be appealing to me."

"The Jedi are as much a cult as we are. Your student Revan seems to be doing a fine job at the very same thing you accuse the Madame of. Has it ever occurred to you that the Madame was simply a great leader, as it seems your student is destined to be?"

"You know nothing of my student," Kreia replied angrily.

"Oh, come now, Kreia, you must know by now we always keep tabs on your most powerful. Revan has great potential actually. Not as stuffy as the other Padawans. And her boy toy Alek seems to be worth something as well-"

"If you ever come near Revan I will kill you."

"You can try," Ptolemus laughed. "I can see my words are wasted on you. Perhaps we can convince you otherwise-after we have taken Valia and seized this touching little Enclave."

"You will not have Valia. You will not twist her."

"Kreia, we can and we will-enlighten her."

The lightsabers activated, three purple blades shooting out of each of them.

"Oh, don't worry, dear Kreia, you are not going to die, I just-want you out of the way for a while."

The blades sank into Kreia before she could react. Her last image before blacking out were of Ptolemus pulling the lightsabers out of her body and clipping all three to his belt as he stepped over her.

Present day...

"I believe you know what happened after that," Kreia finished.

"Yeah," Valia nodded soberly, recalling her own kidnapping.

"For what it is worth, I did regret SOME of the things I said about Kashtu."

"I think she knew you did. In any case I would not worry about it. It was long ago. Too long ago to matter anymore."

"Huh," Valia grunted before leaving.

When the Sith woman woke up, Mical calmly but firmly ordered her to the other dormitory where Atton placed her under his own personal watch until Valia came and relieved him.

"Shout if you need anything," Atton said as he walked out.

Valia nodded and then focused her attention on the Sith. The Sith instantly stood up.

"My life, for yours."

"Pardon?"

"I am prepared to accept my execution."

"I am not here to kill you."

"Is it interrogation then? There is little I could tell. My master keeps me ignorant."

"I suppose we could start with how you found me."

"I heard you through the Force. You are the echo-the scream that never reaches a destination."

"If you heard screams, they belonged to my enemies. Your master sent you to kill me?"

"Yes. I can see now it was a suicide mission, however. He does not understand you-if so, there may be hope."

"Hope?"

"For all life."

"Who is this master?"

"He does not have a name. He is simply the Master."

"You serve him and yet don't even know his name?"

"If he had a name, it would be Death. He is a destroyer. Of planets. Of life. Everything is consumed through his will."

Valia did not like how that sounded at all. But she could look into the matter later with Kreia.

"Tell me, do you tire of serving your master?"

"I am bonded to him, as you are to the old woman."

"Do you chafe under the bond, as I do?"

"If there was any way I thought I could escape him, I would."

"There is. You will serve me."

"Serve you?" the Sith repeated.

"If you wish to. I have use for talents such as yours. You can fight anybody on the ship competently. You evaded Kreia. You evaded Bastila. Talent is a shame to waste."

"My master-I know of no way to stop him-"

"Anyone can be stopped. You simply need find their weak spot. You will find I am a far more generous master. You have the gait of one who acts like she is kept under another's yoke. No matter how powerful your master is, he can be killed, like anybody else."

"He is not like other Sith. I doubt he even thinks in terms of Jedi or Sith any longer."

"You despise him?"

"Yes," the Sith replied flatly.

"Then help me kill him. Lead me to him-"

"I cannot. I will not. If you truly wish me to serve you than know that what I say next is for your benefit: He is too powerful for you at the moment. You are not yet strong enough to stop him, but you could be. But if I bring you to him now, with your potential unrealized, he would simply consume you just as he has every other foe. Even I only served him so that I could stave off that fate as long as possible."

"So you wish to serve me?"

The Sith knelt down. "I pledge myself to you, my Master. For better or worse, I will follow you in the hopes of putting an end to the one who has kept me under his yoke."

Valia reached into her pocket and pulled out the Sith's lightsaber, examining it. It was a dark hilt, with a slim rubber grip in the middle and a bronze emitter with a beveled shroud at the top. She hit the activation stud and a scarlet blade snaked out.

"Rise," Valia commanded as she deactivated it and handed it back to the Sith. "Your name?"

"Visas. Visas Marr."

"Very well, Visas Marr. I am Valia Renn."

Visas glanced up, a frown of curiosity etched into her mouth.

"It is rare to meet an outsider who knows my people's language. And yet your name is well chosen, Wandering Sting."

Valia grunted at this and then walked out.

"Hey, Valia!" Atton called out from the security room. "That Shishida babe is right outside the landing ramp!"

"Open the hatch!" Valia ordered, heading to the exit.

No sooner than the ramp lowered than Shishida strode up without hesitation.

"I found that old geezer Vrook. He's being held in a cave not far from here. I'd be careful though, it has got lots of spidery creatures in it."

"Kinrath," Valia grimaced. "Wait a minute, if you knew where he was, why didn't you just bring him back?"

"I-can't enter. I am not spiritually pure enough."

Valia gave her a look and then rolled her eye.

"The cave is full of crystals, isn't it?"

Shishida nodded. "It would take at least an hour of ritual washing before I could go in. Sorry."

Valia sighed. "Don't worry about it. Is he with anyone else?"

"Yes. Mercenaries. A dozen. I had to use my Force perceptions to even get that much information for you."

Valia swore a bit under her breath.

"Hey cheer up!" Shishida said, handing Valia a small wood box. Valia opened up and was shocked to find an iron kettle and heating pad. Next to that had to be a pound of pure dried tea from home.

"At least I didn't come back completely empty handed! By the way, you mind if I come in? It started raining out here. Really hard. I'm cold."

"Well, in that case Miss Shishida, how about I get you a blanket or something and we can cozy up in-" Atton began.

Valia shot him a look. "Atton, finish the sentence. I dare you."

Atton gulped and backed off.

Valia rolled her eye and gestured for Shishida to come into the ship. Shishida practically skipped inside and leaned against a work bench where Bao-Dur was working on what looked like a miniature skeletal frame and small power pack.

Valia decided it would be good for Bao-Dur to get out with her. She might even figure out what was wrong with him mentally.

"Bao-Dur, gear up, we're going out."

"Of course, General. Are we going to blow stuff up? Because I like the big boom sound blowing stuff up makes."

"Uh...maybe."

"Goody, General. Let me just get my satchel charges and I'll be ready," the Zabrak replied with an unusual amount of eagerness in his tone.

"Visas! Atton! Follow me!" Valia barked.

"Damn it," Atton grumbled as the four went outside. As he looked back he saw Shishida blow him a mocking kiss and waving at him with total mirth.


	18. Spelunking

Atton shivered as he followed Valia, Bao-Dur, and Visas out into the rain. It was still almost pitch black outside and the thunder rang out ominously.

"Dammit, I'm gonna catch a cold," he said as he sneezed.

"Suck it up," Valia snorted.

"Next time, we get coats for this sort of thing," Atton complained once again.

"What's wrong with you? I find the rain particularly refreshing this time of year," Bao-Dur said with what seemed to be sincerity as the cold rain hammered down on top of their skulls.

"Are you blind?!" Atton called out through the howl of the storm.

"Only if I drink too much, Atton. And I like to drink. A lot. I can't even see ahead of me, making this little jaunt outside all the more pleasant."

"That's it, you need to see a frakking shrink!"

"You've got it all wrong, Atton. The _shrink _is the one who needs to see _me."_

"What in the-you just said the exact same thing I just said, but you reversed the words! There was no point to that!"

"Let's make mud sculptures after we're done. They're perfect for this kind of weather. I'll let you make your sculptures first so I can critique it," Bao-Dur replied with that disturbingly soft voice of his.

Atton just stared at him. Had he heard him right?

_Wait, what am I thinking-OF COURSE I heard him right. Everybody on this damn trip is messed up. Me included, _Atton thought bitterly.

But Bao-Dur-he was more messed up than the rest. During the flight to Dantooine, Kreia had requested numerous times to change dorms, claiming that the Zabrak's "black thoughts" were disturbing her ability to meditate. Valia had continuously refused however, amused by the effect Bao-Dur had on the old crone. If Atton had no stake invested in this, he would have been content to sit back and laugh at Bao-Dur's responses. But not when this guy was supposed to be watching his back. That the alien had a few screws loose was an understatement-there were things Bao-Dur had said to him on the way to Dantooine that made him question whether or not Bao-Dur had ANY screws to begin with.

What was wrong with him? If it was the Mandalorian Wars that were to blame, Atton would not be even slightly surprised-he himself spent a few months in a psyche ward after the battle of Serroco. He also knew for a fact that far too many soldiers had ended up needing therapy and not getting it after Dxun. Even if it wasn't Dxun, he could name at least ten other campaigns that had certainly contributed to the need for psychological counseling.

Atton checked his bulky Mandalorian Disintegrator. It was getting a bit heavy to wield properly, meant more for armored fingers then plain old bare hands.

Yeah, and if he tried to modify it in any way, he'd have to explain how he got so good at customizing. It wasn't something a standard issue Republic grunt was taught, having to fight their way through most of the wars with standard issue. Only special ops had that time and money on their hands, not to mention the blood. Valia's suspicions would only rise.

Still though, he should try and work on it at least a little. The recoil on this thing was a schutta to deal with. It hurt his hands every time he pulled the trigger. He made a note to scavenge the next dead body they made as soon as possible.

Atton's eyes fell again on Valia. He found he still couldn't fathom her sometimes. She kept everything so closed off from her. Trying to make any sort of meaningful conversation other than tactics or telling a simple joke was like trying to build a suspension bridge between a moon and a blackhole.

Here she was, one of the greatest heroes of the Mandalorian Wars, a woman whose authority was second only to Revan and Alek-or Malak, as he later came to be called-and she hadn't followed them. Why? The question was driving him crazy.

He had served under her authority at first in the conflict. He was part of the 112th Rapid Assualt Devision, nicknamed "Valia's Valiant". He and his buddies had specialized in lightning fast guerilla attacks on enemy bases and scouting parties. They served on the frontlines and had been trained under especially brutal conditions by various Sargeants and Jedi under Valia's direct authority. Sure, in truth, Valia herself had had little to actually do with the group and was reportedly uncomfortable with the nickname of "Valia's Valiant" but just being associated with the most feared of Revan's Generals was enough to put the fear of death in the hearts of many a Mandalorian commander.

Atton for his part had been singled out for his distinctive abilities at tracking and assault after the battle of the Xoxin Plains. When he had joined, his original name-Jaq K'erowac-had been sealed away until after the war ended. "Atton Rand" was a name taken from the last names of two dead Mandalorian snipers. After wards had come six months of the most brutal training imaginable-he got the feeling that even if Valia wasn't really at all associated with the group, she might very well have approved of their training methods. When Atton had emerged from it, he knew practically everything there was to know about Mandalorians. He spoke their language fluently enough as to have no accent, knew where to hit their armor and had even practiced making some of their armor himself. He had graduated top of his class.

Not that it mattered much nowadays. His slight beer gut always put the ladies off and his family-a wife and kid-wouldn't take him back. The ghosts were the only people that he bothered to talk to now, giving most people the impression he was crazy when they caught him talking into thin air. More than once had he toyed with the idea of killing himself, but one of the ghosts always talked him-or forced him-out of it. Partly because they still had that damnable Jedi compassion of theirs but some of the ghosts-and he was fairly certain of it-didn't mind watching him getting his, especially after all he had done.

Atton winced at a sharp pain in his stomach. The more of these damn Jedi and Sith, the more he felt ill-and the more the ghosts became active. Before last night it had always been one to two ghosts at a time-never four at once.

Was it possible that the other Force users of the group were making them more aggressive? Was he going to have to worry about a battle for control? He shuddered at the thought of how it might turn out. He had personally helped kill dozen's-perhaps hundreds of Jedi in either assault teams, assassination missions, good old fashioned bombings, and some of his more personalized methods...

Even the ones who didn't mind being joined to him might not resist if the other more aggressive ghosts decided it was finally time to screw Jaq completely.

"Atton," Valia growled. "We're here. You take point."

"Why do I have to take point?" Atton asked as they stared at the cave.

"Because I said so. Get going," Valia growled.

"Yeah, sure. I WOULD get sent ahead and deal with all the nasty ick of this nasty icky cave," Attom mumbled under his breath, drawing his pistol. He ventured forward.

The first thing he noticed was a great deal of dead Kinrath. He signaled for everyone to stop. Someone had been here recently. Someone who liked to use heavy repeaters. Judging by the tracks and prints in the soil, he would say there were about twelve of them.

But Atton, still intent on playing the fool, merely said "Huh. Someone's been in here."

"My sight detects at least a dozen separate signatures. And another, more powerful one..." Visas trailed off.

Valia stared at the dead kinrath and Atton could swear he could feel the rage building up in her.

"Bastards," she spat. "Keep moving."

Atton went forward as silently as possible, careful not to step on anything loose. Before he realized it, he was gliding silently, sinking into his old training as he approached a passage in the cave.

"Atton!" came a hiss that did not belong to any body he was actually with.

Atton cocked his head slightly to one side. It was the Zeltron Jedi.

"Atton, you moving way too silent for someone who's supposed to be just another smuggler."

Atton gave a quick glance behind him. Valia was eyeing him suspiciously.

Atton immediately stumbled and tripped.

"Good. You've thrown her off," the Zeltron said before vanishing.

He watched Valia cock her head quizzically to one side and then shrug a bit.

Atton hefted the disintegrator and pointed it forward, making sure to not be as silent as he had been before, but not so much that he would give them away.

As he got closer to a fork in the cave path, he began to hear voices...

"Today is payday. Soon as our boys secure transport we can get this Jedi off this rock," a rough female voice said.

"Well good. Those damned Jal-Shey ruined almost everything else by beheading Azkul. You have an idea as to how long we have to wait?

"A day or so, but don't worry: No one knows we're here."

At that moment Valia gave the signal to attack.

Atton peered into the dimly lit cave mouth and fired indiscriminately at the five mercenaries he spotted. They blinked dumbly in surprise as they were hit. They hadn't really much of a chance to do anything, being too slow to pull their blasters out. Atton winced a bit as he remembered how many times the Mandalorians and Jedi had done that to him. They had failed, certainly-but watching these men drop like they had was an uncomfortable reminder of how close he had come to dying the exact same way.

Atton spun his blaster for a second and stuck it in his holster, his eyes locking onto the old Jedi stuck in the Force cage about a few feet to his right.

Atton snorted. He had never captured a Jedi this easy. They always liked to run or do that stupid somersaulting crap. By the time he spotted them, he usually had to end up killing them. Only later, when he really started to pay attention to how they fought had he had any success at bringing them in intact.

The old balding Jedi stared at him with a minor disinterested feel about him and when he spoke there was that aggravating quality of arrogance present in nearly every Jedi he had ever met.

"Another mercenary? You're like animals fighting for scraps."

Atton wanted to shoot him right then and there but composed himself. He didn't need Valia ripping his entrails out.

"Nah, I ain't no mercenary. We're here to rescue you," Atton replied as amicably as he knew how.

Valia entered the area with a grimace.

"Or we could just leave you in the cage, if you prefer."

"The Exile returns? Are our troubles truly so dire that we see a harbinger of death such as yourself? Have you come to wreck your revenge on us?"

"Not really. Just getting you upset does wonders for my stress levels. Even better now that I know you are so incompetent as to allow these nerf-for-brains mercs to string you up."

"Has it occurred to you that in allowing them to capture me I might learn the nature of our enemy?" Vrook asked.

"Yeah, and that is why you are an idiot. You always were when it came to tactics. You should have started cracking skulls, not letting yourself get captured. Besides, the mercs aren't the source of the problem at all. Do you even realize what is going on outside?"

"I sensed much unrest. Spurs of the darkness. Like I see in you."

"Don't you go starting on that old tirade! I ain't with the dead idiots outside. I actually came looking to save your sorry hide at Atris' request!"

"So Atris still lives. I thought she had gone to the meeting on Katarr," Vrook paused. "But why would she send _you? _You can't feel the Force. You're likely to get yourself killed."

"Let's just say I'm trying to get a little absolution for myself. And as for the Force..." Valia undid the controls on Vrook's force cage by holding out her hand.

Vrook stood up immediately.

"Hmm. I do not understand why the Force would return to you of all people-you are undeserving, if you ask me."

"Oh, so the Force is a privilege meant to be wielded by an elite few? How Sith of you. Remember your Jedi humility," Valia snapped. "Oh wait, I forgot-you have none, if monkeying around with Revan's memory is any indicator."

"So you know, do you? You were not there. For your information I had nothing to do with the erasure. I simply wanted her thrown in prison. I actually opposed it, but Atris, Zhar, and Quatra overruled me."

"A nice excuse. You spend all day thinking that one up?" Valia snorted. "I never knew you to tolerate anyone who disagreed with you."

"I'm telling the truth," Vrook replied tersely.

"From a certain point of view, perhaps. But that isn't important right now. What is important is you finding your way off this rock. Can you at least do that or will I have to hold your hand like my allies just did?"

"Humph. I can handle myself," Vrook snapped. "But the Khoonda facility? Are there any survivors?"

"What few still live are being guarded by the Jal-Shey."

"The Jal-Shey? Why are they involved?"

"Perhaps you would know if you had not been keeping these mercs company. Way to drop the ball, Vrook. Maybe if you had been a little more focused on protecting people, Khoonda might not have suffered such casualties. But then again you always did like to deafen your ears to the screams of the dying, didn't you?"

"If you refer to the Mandalorian Wars, I stand by the council's decision not to intervene."

"Of course you do. And I bet the Republic is just eager for your help nowadays, ain't it?"

Vrook stiffened.

"I have no desire to help those sellouts anymore. They couldn't abide by our decision and turned on us like animals during the Civil War. The return of the Jedi will see to it that such a betrayal never happens again."

Valia paused. "What do you mean they turned on you?"

"He's talking about the Senate's attempt to seize and privatize control of the Jedi during the Civil War," Atton explained. "It had been building towards that for years. The Jedi refusal to help during the Mandalorian wars pissed a lot of Senators off. What a lot of people don't know is that when Darth Revan first began her invasion of the Republic, the Senate delivered an ultimatum to the Jedi Council on Coruscant: Fight for us now or be outlawed permanently."

Valia turned to Atton. "How did you come by this information?"

"I can read a news terminal can't I?" Atton shrugged, doing his best to be nonchalant.

"Your...friend is correct. Indeed, when Darth Revan invaded, the Council wished more time to examine the threat before we acted. The Senate could not accept that. The next thing we know, a Republic cruiser and a full contingent of Senate Troopers invade the Jedi Temple and arrest over twenty masters on false charges of treason. The Jedi had no choice but to cooperate. We caved into the Senate's demands and thousands of us were drafted and sent to the conflicts on the outer rim. But that was not the worst we suffered. Our darkest moment of the war came when Republic intelligence learned we had preserved Revan for our own purposes. When they demanded we surrender Revan and we could not deliver...they bombed the Enclave here. Then they let the Sith finish the job for them. To this day many still think it was Darth Malak who ordered the Enclave bombed-but even he wasn't that stupid enough to risk all the priceless knowledge the Enclave once contained," Vrook finished, a somber look on his face. "All these years of defending the Republic, defending its ideals...for them to turn on us like this...ingrates..."

"The Republic turned on the Jedi?" Valia asked her expression darkening. "Huh. Didn't see that one coming."

"It's open season on our kind. It's open season on all who are Force sensitive. The Republic has decided to make a bid to militarize us, bring us under their direct authority permanently. I have even heard rumors that the Republic has a military force trained by former Sith. If it is true than they have truly betrayed us-betrayed democracy-" Vrook went on.

"What is democracy to an authoritarian like you? The only reason you're upset is 'cause you're finally getting a taste of your own medicine," Valia replied in snide fashion.

"Whatever other faults you may perceive of me, I certainly did not want nor expect this to occur. Not to mention the trouble we're having with the Sith. If you truly desire to gather the other masters I will go into hiding until you bring them to Dantooine. I have very little faith in your chances however. So many of us...are dead."

"I have very little faith in your competence to remain hidden. Just look at your capture. I wonder how many other people you'll allow to defeat you. Such a typical tactic. Let the enemy run you over! That way you are actually the winner. Get out of my sight," Valia finished angrily.

Vrook frowned and walked past her.

"Talking to that man for more than a minute always threatened to give me an ulcer," Valia snorted.

"Yeah, he was beginning to get on my nerves too," Atton thought out loud.

"Hey, General. One of the mercs is still alive," Bao-Dur noted, staring at a groaning merc nursing a blaster wound in his abdomen. "Can I have some fun at his expense?"

Valia nodded. "So long as you obtain information from him, I don't really care what you do. I have other business to attend to."

"As you command, General," Bao-Dur replied calmly, giving a small smile to the injured mercenary. As Atton, Valia, and Visas left the ccave chamber and went deeper into the tunnels, Atton faintly heard Bao-Dur.

"Say, good sir, have you ever been to a puppet show-?"

"Okay, what next, Fearless Leader?" Atton asked as they headed deeper into the cave.

"It occurs to me that having a few extra crystals on hand would be useful," Valia replied as the ventured into a large cavern.

Atton whistled as he beheld the crystals. He had always heard of places like this, but had never actually been to one. Once after killing a Jedi target (One which regularly haunted him nowadays), he had taken apart his victim's lightsaber, and had spent hours fascinated by the gently glowing light of the small Adegan crystal.

"I bet you could get a whole bunch of credits for just a small bit of these," Atton noted, trying to mask the enthusiasm with which he entered the place.

"Huh. You could indeed," Valia replied. Her eyes instantly focused on something pulsating at the center of a large crystal formation.

Valia ventured toward it. The pulse of ruddy green light grew brighter. The formation made a low hum, and Valia could tell that it was vibrating all along the surface.

Valia reached out with her right hand, while keeping her left on a blaster.

The formation exploded violently, sending shards of glowing rock in every direction. Atton and Visas barely managed to shield themselves as Valia was flung back into a rock wall. She didn't move for a few seconds but then slowly stirred as Atton and Visas approached.

Valia shook herself off, her head spinning from the impact as she unclenched her hand.

A small, strange crystal fell out, covered in blood.

Atton picked it up. The crystal was a dark green, laced with a small vein of red through it. It seemed to throb in his hand, and-much to his surprise-actually seemed to try and _squirm _out of his grip.

"Ewww," Atton said, dropping the strange object.

Valia picked it up.

"Well, this is a rarity. A blood bonded crystal."

"A what? I've never heard of such a thing," Visas said.

"Certain crystal growths react to certain Force-Sensitive signature ranges. It's very rare. In this case, this particular one had some sort of pre-existing chemical composite or micro biotic property that caused it to react to the electrical field that my body uses to transmit Force Energy. Since it got some of my blood on it, it has become partially organic."

"You're saying it is...alive?" Visas asked.

"In a sense. It will respond to me only. This will make it a very useful tool. Who knows-it might even become stronger as I grow in strength," Valia replied, immediately taking the crystal back and putting it in her pocket. "Gather what you can carry, we're leaving."


	19. Tools Of The Trade

Valia and company had been making their way to the cave entrance when they spotted the wounded mercenary Valia had allowed to live earlier.

"He's crazy!" The mercenary bellowed, panic and sweat evident on his face. "Keep him away from me!"

"Who's crazy?" Valia asked, already knowing-and dreading-the answer.

"The Zabrak! He and his damn puppet show. I told him everything I know but he wouldn't stop, the crazy bastard."

"Oh Mr. Mercenary? I haven't finished my performance. Why don't you come here and talk to my puppets. Am I getting the voices right?" Bao-Dur called out in a disturbingly gentle voice.

The mercenary screamed as Bao-Dur appeared, barefoot, his socks on his hands and a blaster in his holster. The left sock, due to his mechanical arm, was stretched to its limits and had begun to tear.

The mercenary bolted past him.

Bao-Dur raised his hands, his right hand turning to his left one.

"Hey Lefty," he said in a small voice out of the corner of his mouth as he moved his right hand as though it were an actual mouth while the mercenary desperately tried to gain some distance. "I've got a great idea."

"What's that, Righty?" He asked out of the other corner of his mouth, now moving his left hand in unison with his speech.

"Why don't we shoot our friend in the back of his frakking skull?" Bao-Dur asked in that tiny voice.

"That's a great idea, Righty! Shoot that bastard!" he said, having his left sock puppet reply.

Without fan fare, the Zabrak quickly drew his blaster and fired.

The mercenary's head exploded. He fell to the ground, dead.

Valia, for her part, was open mouthed. She had seen a great many things. Disturbing things. And while that had not been the most disturbing thing she had ever seen, it was certainly up there.

"Mind telling me what just happened, Bao-Dur?" she asked.

"Eh, I toyed with him. He got scared and began telling me everything without me even asking. Turns out he helped massacre some of the civilians here. Don't worry General, he had it coming."

"Oh. No great loss, then. But, uh, why the sock puppets?"

"I was feeling frisky. Wanted to try something new. We should always be experimenting. He never told me what he thought of my performance though, so I have to assume he was too polite to tell me he didn't like it. By the way, General, how did I do on voicing the puppets? I admit, I'm no professional, but still, I like to think I put some feeling into it!"

"You...did fine," Valia replied. "Uh, keep it up."

"Goody, General," Bao-Dur replied seemingly relieved. "I rehearsed all week for that."

"Nutcase," Atton said under his breath.

"Bao-Dur, you go on ahead. Get your boots on," Valia ordered.

"As you command, General," Bao-Dur acknowledged, going ahead.

When he was sure the Zabrak was out of earshot, Atton looked at Valia.

"Okay, Fearless Leader, what the hell do we do about him?"

"He's getting worse. We had hints of it on Telos, but I figure it was just part of the war. It seems more than that."

"If I may," Visas interjected. "I believe I noticed something when I was staring at his Force Aura."

"What?" Valia asked.

"It's been tampered with. Very subtle. Whoever did it was a Master of the Force. It is very faint, but if you pay attention closely, especially where the aura gathers around his head, you'll notice that it does not flow as quickly as it should."

"Can you say that in Basic, please?" Atton grumbled.

"His mind has been altered. Severely," Valia replied. "But as to why, I am unsure."

"So that's why he's acting all weird? Is there a way to snap him out of it?"

"I am unsure. If the tampering has been prevalent for a long time, it would be extremely difficult to rid him of it," Visas explained.

"Would Kreia be capable of pulling this off?" Valia growled, already formulating a set of barbaric cruelties to inflict on the old woman.

"I am not certain. I do not know Kreia, and cannot offer an estimation of whether or not she could."

"We will simply have to ask. In the meantime, Atton, watch Bao-Dur. I believe he has officially become unpredictable."

"Why am I getting stuck with Crazy Horns?" Atton complained.

"Because I said so," Valia rasped. "Besides, it isn't like you have anything better to do on the Hawk."

"Ehhh...alright." Atton mumbled a few choice curses before going ahead of them.

Fifteen minutes later, when everyone had made it back to ship, Valia wasted no time going to Kreia's side of the ship. She found the old hag on the floor, meditating.

"Kreia," Valia said, as calmly as she was able to. "I am going to ask you this once. You will have only one chance to answer me honestly. A dishonest answer means I will disembowel you."

Kreia did not turn around. "Ask."

"Have you, at any point, after I specifically ordered you not to, tampered with any of the crews minds? And if so, which one was it?"

Kreia sighed. She stood up wearily, walked over to Valia so that they were face to face, and gazed at Valia with her blind eyes.

"No. I have not tampered with anyone's mind, as per your request."

Valia scanned the woman's body movement as she answered her ears keen for the subtle vocal cues that would indicate a lie.

There were none.

Valia took a step back. "Huh. You answered honestly. Good. You are learning."

"I assume this has something to do with the Alien."

"You knew something was wrong?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"I did not feel the need to. I thought it was merely a trauma from the wars that had wormed a way into his heart. But based on your questioning, I am led to believe he has done something...extreme, shall we say?"

Valia described what happened. Valia saw Kreia's eyebrows rise in surprise.

"Damn, that IS weird," Kreia said in a small voice to herself. "You want me to take a look at him?"

"I would welcome your analysis."

Kreia sighed and followed Valia to where Bao-Dur was. As usual, he was fixing something on the workbench.

"Alien," Kreia spoke. "I have come to examine you."

"Oooo, we're gonna play doctor," Bao-Dur said eagerly, turning around. "I've had this REAL bad itch on my big toe for a while, now. Could be a splinter. Am I gonna need a stim or do I need a prescription for that sort of thing? How about in a few minutes we switch roles? I think you could fall dead from a heart-attack at any moment!"

"Alien," Kreia spoke irritably. "Shut up."

Bao-Dur clasped his hands, sat on the stool with his back straight, and stuck his tongue out. "Ahhh," he said.

Kreia closed her eyes. Valia could see them moving rapidly under the lids.

A few seconds later, Kreia opened them.

"That...is very unusual. His mind has definitely been tampered with, but as to the purpose, I cannot say. It certainly stems from childhood. I would venture a guess at five-years old, but I'm going to be safe and say ten. Tell me, Alien, did you have contact with a Force-Sensitive when you were young?"

"Well, I'm not supposed to say this, but Mother was a Jedi."

Valia and Kreia both raised eyebrows at this.

"Indeed. And who was your mother?"

"My mother was Kara-Dur."

Valia saw Kreia's mouth drop in total surprise. Valia had never seen her like that.

"Kara-Dur, the Singing Prophetess?" Kreia said.

Bao-Dur snapped his fingers. "Yep, that's the one."

"Who is this Kara-Dur?" Valia asked Bao-Dur.

"Oh, Mother used to be some kinda Jedi big-wig. Claimed she could see in the future. Whenever I asked why she left she always told me that she had 'left while the leaving was good'. Never elaborated on it."

"Kara-Dur was a Consular who once sat on the Jedi High Council. She was highly attuned to the Force. Served as the Jedi's equivalent of an early warning system. She could see extremely far into the future, and thus was prepared for virtually every contingency, for every branching future she saw. Her power was much greater than many of the people who sat on the Council. Revan herself would have been hard-pressed to outclass her," Kreia added.

"Why is she called the Singing Prophetess?" Valia asked.

"I figured that would be self-explanatory, Exile," Kreia replied. "Her prophecies came to her in the form of song lyrics."

Valia considered this for a moment. Finally she smiled.

"Neat. She ever teach you a song, Bao-Dur?" she asked, much to Kreia's horror.

Bao-Dur cleared his throat. He was singing before Kreia could stop him. From the sound of it, Kara-Dur had designed it to be a catchy tune. Out of a desire to protect the reader from potential catastrophic effects of knowing something of the future, the lyrics will not be written down. But it was catchy, rest assured.

"Enough!" Kreia nearly shrieked. "You don't just go reciting prophecy like that! It is dangerous! Did she show you any other prophecies?! Just revealing a snippet of that could affect the future! As you just unthinkingly did!"

"I don't know Kreia that was rather catchy. I say we let him keep going," Valia suggested.

"Now I have to worry about whether YOU are crazy or not," Kreia replied, inwardly exasperated. "Believe me, Exile. We do not wanting him spouting prophecy, no matter how admittedly catchy a tune it is. Just knowledge of that one part may have adversely affected the future in ways we cannot comprehend. Bao-Dur, you are never to speak of prophecy ever again."

"Mum's the word," Bao-Dur replied. He started humming the supposed tune to the song.

"Well, that explains his Force-Sensitivity. I never said anything during the wars because I thought he had enough on his plate at the time," Valia said, once they left Bao-Dur to his repairs. "Question is, why would his own mother tamper with him? Abuse?"

"No. Kara-Dur was one of the most stable individuals I ever knew. I didn't connect the two because I never thought Kara-Dur was much interested in a family. I thought he was from a different family with the same last name," Kreia explained. "The question is, what do we do, now that we know?"

"I...know some people. They might be willing to take a look at him. Have to get Shishida's permission though."

"Where is she, by the way?" Kreia asked.

Valia sighed. "I have a good idea of her location." Leaving Kreia and heading to the cockpit, she found Shishida lazily fanning herself with a pazaak deck. Atton was steaming.

"You're cheating. You have to be. Nobody wins that many games in a row. How are you doing it?"

"You are beaten. It is useless to resist," Shishida replied teasingly. "Pay up."

Atton grumbled and fished a hundred credits out of his pocket. He slapped them angrily into her hand.

"Shishida, stop playing Card Shark. You and I need to speak."

"Over?" Shishida asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Not here, in private."

Shishida got up. "Lead the way, Ju-"

Valia shot her a look.

Shishida corrected herself. "I mean, Valia."

Valia grunted and led her to the the dormitory Visas was meditating in.

"Out," she said to the Miralukan.

Visas rose and left without a word.

Valia hit a button on the side and the door to the dormitory closed.

"What's the problem?"

"Time we get a few things out in the open. Such as why you are helping me?"

"Well, we WERE childhood friends. I had no choice back on Tython. You would have gotten yourself killed with that plan of yours to assassinate your father. I had to intervene. I made it up to you later though, did I not?"

"That you did," Valia admitted. "Took me a while to get over it."

"Then that was your problem. I stand by my decision."

"Well why are you passing messages along from Father?"

"I was being followed. I couldn't just warn you out right that the Saatvans were looking for you. I have my own people's safety to consider. I figure that would put you on alert. I'm surprised it didn't."

"I got a lot on my shoulders. I missed the intention completely," Valia replied, studying Shishida for any lie in her voice or gestures. Once again-and much to her relief-she found none.

"Is that all you wanted to talk to me about?"

"No. My team-if you could call them that-are not prepared. Things will get rougher from here, and I am in need of facilities that you have to train them."

"Ah," Shishida began, her old playfulness returning. "You wanna have a little get together eh?"

"With your permission. I need to whip these guys into shape real damn quick. Training on a cramped vessel such as this simply won't do."

"I SUPPOSE it would be alright. So be it. You are all to be my personal guests at my family estate. I'll punch in the hyperspace coordinates for Orlock. It'll be nice having you back after all these years," Shishida replied.

Valia nodded. "Thank you, Shishida. I won't forget this. It is good we are working together again."

Shishida sat on a nearby cot.

"Where, oh where, did the years go?" she asked wistfully.

"On my end, they went to war. Not a fair trade, if you ask me," Valia answered, sitting down next to her.

"You still paint? I still have this ink painting you did. I keep it mounted in my room back home."

"I lost my taste for the way of Art."

Shishida sighed. "No surprise there. Sad though. You used to love that stuff. I liked your mandalas, especially."

"What about you? Take care of yourself?"

Shishida sighed.

"It got bad out there. When the damn Saatvans seized control of Tython and killed almost all your brethren, Nosferans were hated worse than ever. All the clans had to dissociate themselves from the order. They're building up forces. Whatever they're planning, they've co-opted an alliance of other fanatical lightsiders. They have something big in mind. And bad. We're still trying to figure out what to do." For just a moment, Shishida lost some of that happy-go-lucky attitude in her eyes.

But it quickly returned. "But what the hell. They've never been successful before. And now that you're back in the fray, they're probably going to die horribly."

Valia chuckled lightly. "Yeah, you're probably right. C'mon. We have a few things to do before we can leave."

Dustil had been standing watch ever since Valia left when he saw her approaching with Mical and an unfamiliar woman with pale skin and a blue bodysuit.

"You're back! Good. I got a little worried. Saw your boys carrying you back to the ship."

"Rough ride," Valia grunted. "Very rough. But in the very least, I have a new story to tell for my old age-if I reach it."

"Sorry we couldn't get you earlier sir. We had our hands full," Dustil added, staring at Mical.

"Perfectly alright," Mical reassured. "Can you get open a transmission to Corle?"

"Of course, sir. Follow me." Dustil led them inside.

Valia spotted a number of sick and dying on her way into the estate, a mix of Jal-Shey and civilians. It must have been a rather horrific fight, but nothing Valia hadn't seen before.

She found herself hoping the civilians could get back on their feet. If nothing else, this incident would make them stronger, more wary-more unforgiving to an opponent. Conflict brings people together in ways that can be very hard to understand. The effect, however, can never be disputed in terms of efficiency.

The four entered a large office, where a large holotransmitter had been set up. Dustil punched up a few numbers on a nearby terminal of a middle aged man with dark har and a sharp nose going over some kind of notes. He looked up.

"Ah, an interesting catch," he said with a heavy Coruscant accent. "I am Head Advisor Corle. I have been looking to make contact with you, Miss Renn."

"I'm here. Start talking. What do you know about this invasion from the rim?"

"My spies have made note of a strong military buildup over the past few months. We are very close to the outer rim and as you yourself no doubt know, the rim is rife with political and religious unrest on an almost daily basis with the Force-Sensitives there. It is my belief that an invasion force will come through the Correllian trade routes and hit strategic centers such as shipyards and agriculture worlds to cut off the food supplies. Fuels and shipyards will be hit in the same instance. The trouble is, We can't get our spies any closer to deducing what they want. I had to throw away the lives of a good many agents to get even that much. They are called Saatvans. I cannot penetrate their inner circle, despite my best efforts. But from everything I have been able to scrape up, they follow some sort of lightsided doctrine. Everybody out there is now afraid to talk to us, which is why I now turn to you."

Valia paused, trying to forget the horrid screams of her past.

"It is a long story. And I am afraid that I do not have the time to go reciting it. I have a schedule to keep, masters to find. I will contact you once I have more information myself." Without waiting for him to respond she reached with the Force and cut transmission at the terminal.

"Thank you, Dustil. I must be on my way. Tell your Boss I apologize for my abruptness."

Dustil, nodded, not wanting to contest a highly trained killer.

"And Dustil, when you re-establish contact with him, tell him I'm joining Valia for her mission as well and will be out of contact for some time," Mical added.

Dustil nodded. Without another word, the group left.

"Seemed like a waste of time," Shishida noted.

"There is something about that man I do not trust. I cannot put my finger on it, however," Valia replied.

"Yeah, about that," Mical said uneasily. "Valia, if I tell you something, do you promise not to freak out and start killing people here?"

"Depends. Would I freak out and start killing people if I did not promise?"

"I think so. Yes."

"We had better get far away from here then," Valia suggested. The group made a hasty exit.

Once they were well away from the estate, and walking on the grassy plains, Valia decided to ask what this was all about.

"Spill it, Mical. What have these people done?"

Mical scratched the back of his head. Valia thought he looked rather nervous, given his body language.

"They found Revan."

Valia raised an eyebrow, trying to control her surprise.

"Is she safe? Is she alright? What condition was she in?"

Mical slowly explained the whole thing, right down to the horrific battle he had.

When he was finished, Mical took a step back. The glint of homicidal rage was back in Valia's eye. The hairs on the back of Mical's neck stood up. He hadn't seen that gaze since Noran died.

"I'll kill him. I'll tear him apart. I'll bury his head and body separate. Carth Onasi shall scream for mercy, but there will be none," Valia said through gritted teeth. "Where might I locate him?"

"He's always on the move in the fleet. Lately he's been pushing for more government watchdogs on Force Sensitive organizations. There were severe retaliations against him. One group even blew up part of Citadel station a year or so back. He was forced to tone it down after that. He hasn't stopped with his plans though."

"Plans?"

"Have you ever heard of DOOMSAYER?"

"No. What is it?"

"DOOMSAYER was a secret program proposed by a Force Sensitive in the military after the Exar Kun war. It was circulated to the Chancellor and Senators with known sentiments against Jedi. After many years, it apparently got off the ground, around the time of the Jedi Civil War. There was a team of Dark Jedi assembled-but no one knows what happened to them. There were rumors going around that they went rogue, and decimated the program. Don't know why. Carth has apparently been trying to get it off the ground again, and that has us worried."

"He will not succeed. I will put him in the ground-after I brutalize him for what he has done to Revan."

"I have a feeling that once Revan is back on her feet, in a manner of speaking, Revan is going to be eager to do her own brutalizing..."

"Wakey wakey, Revan."

The mutilated thing that had once been Revan opened her eyes, staring out of a visor of some sort. It was not as thin as the one her old mask had sported, but it was not far from it either.

The visor material was clear. She could see perfectly out of it. She was in some kind of surgical theater. There were all manner of unfamiliar instruments surrounding her. Canisters of some unidentified viscous liquid bubbled incessantly next to her. Nearby computer terminals beeped constantly.

She tried to move, only to find that she was restrained.

A man came into view. Dark hair, sharp nose, and dark eyes. Wearing a green and silver armored robe.

Revan-or what was left of the person who called herself that-felt as though she had met him before.

"Long sleep?" the man asked bluntly. "We almost lost you four times on the table. Weak constitution, but I suppose that cannot really be held against you. You were rather torn up to begin with."

The thing that had been Revan tried to speak. The voice that came out was cold and mechanical, and electronic synthesis of her old voice, which had been somber and melancholy.

"W-where am I?"

"You are on the Hand of the Phoenix my dear-and it has been a long time in coming."

"Who are you?"

At this, the man sighed and leaned against a nearby table.

"Who am I? Oh, we have such a history you and I. To be truthful, you considered me a terrorist. And on the days I felt like being honest with myself, I would usually agree with this assessment. You and I have tried to kill each other more times than I care to remember. Though if you don't mind my saying so, I usually had the edge over you in this area. And now you are here. And my objectives concerning you have completely reversed due to the situation."

"What...have you done to me?"

The man grimaced. "Nothing pleasant, I assure you. Tell me, do you remember who you are?"

The thing that had been Revan struggled to make since of the scrambled eggs that passed for her memories.

"I...was called Korel Bhara. A Republic Scout. It was all a ruse. Malak...called me Revan. There are so many memories...but I do not know which are true or false. My head...hurts so much. Make it stop..."

"Yes that's to be expected after having to dig out the damaged parts of your brain," the man replied. "You have some rather high quality implants installed in your frontal lobes now to compensate. As for the rest of you...there was only so much we could do without taking drastic measures to save your life. You at least remember the Stalker Program, don't you?"

"Stalker...?"

"It was a project you initiated during your time as a Sith Lord. Involved upgrading Force Sensitives with cybernetics. Yet another of your ideas that you stole from Darth Kashtu. We decided to make do with the research we found. Of course, given that we didn't have all the research we were forced to get creative..."

At this, the man typed in a command on a nearby console. A hologram appeared of a rather damaged corpse, obviously mutilated by some sort of explosive and later reconstructed. The thing that had been Revan detected faint strands of white hair on the decomposed scalp.

"What you see here is all that remains of Jedi Master Arren Kae. We used samples from this body to construct clone tissues and muscles that we installed on your person to make up for whatever jobs the cybernetics could not. You would not believe how valuable genetic samples of Arren Kae are. I know some people who would pay ridiculously high sums to get a sample of her DNA straight from the body itself. And as for the cybernetics..." the man pulled out a long mirror on wheels from behind a large computer server.

A large breastplate with a small set of controls on the right side had been grafted to her chest. A brand new pale white arm had been grafted to her shoulder, and pale white skin had been grafted to her original arm. Wires and a large cable snaked out of it and attached to the chest. The rest of the outfit was a black quilted material, with slim, hard looking boots.

The waste had a battery pack attached to it. It was large, blocky, and rectangular, and had a soft green light that blinked gently. She could also make out a set of small canisters attached to her back.

The mask however seemed to have been designed after the mask she wore as a Sith, likely as a deliberate insult. A tight fitting black cowl covered the rest of her head, leaving no open space between the mask and her face. A large hose snaked from the chin of the mask and directly into her throat.

The worst part, however, was the breathing sound.

It was not large and rumbling. It was like a faint hiss. But it was annoying and she could not stop it.

Revan let out a low moan of pain and shock.

"I wouldn't complain. At least you can move-once I have deemed you no longer a threat to security. After that, we can discuss what you know about this outer rim threat. Mind you, the implants we have given you are not made for combat."

"This is horrible. There is no point for me to live."

"If you want to die after you've told us, then I will have no trouble marching you to the firing squad myself. Force knows you've had it coming. But I need you alive for now. Alive and coherent."

"Mish-Mission."

"Oh. Her. Your little Twilek friend has been made comforta-AHGGG!"

The man dropped as a stun prod was jammed into his back."

Mission Vao stood over him.

"No friend of mine dies ever again," Mission said quietly. She looked at Revan, and the heartbreak was plain on her face.

"Revan?! Do you know who I am?"

Revan's memories were still scrambled eggs. This girl looked familiar, but any memories regarding her seemed too mixed with other memories that had nothing to do with her.

"Yes," Revan answered weakly. "For what that is worth. Where did we meet? Dantooine? Manaan?"

"Taris. We met on Taris," Mission answered, shock evident. "C'mon, I've prepared an escape route. I disabled most of the security on the ship; we have ten minutes, tops before anybody knows something is wrong." Mission hit the release switch on Revan's operating table and Revan limply fell out, too weak to move.

Mission grabbed her and grunted, slinging her over her shoulder. She activated the stealth field generator she had smuggled out of the contraband section and proceeded slowly to the hanger.

"Okay, here it is," Valia said, stepping over a small patch of grass. She reached down and dug her fingers into the soil.

With a grunt, she pulled, and the patch of grass popped open. It was a small trapdoor.

"How long have you had this?" Mical asked.

"Oh, I started this after I met Noran. During our assignments, we would take any valuable weapons we could find or locate and store them here."

"Stockpiling?" Shishida asked, amused.

"You can never be too careful. I call this my 'Rainy Day Supply'. Glad I didn't touch it." The three descended into the whole and Valia flicked a switch in the room below.

The room was an armory. Various types of lightsabers that had been won in various duels to the death over the years lay in prominent display. Lightsaber crystals had been categorized, alphabetized and stored in various shelves and glass displays. Hilt parts, emitters, lenses, blaster rifles, pistols, swords of nearly every make and description had been stored on racks as well. There were even sets of robes and armor, preserved in vacuum sealed bags.

Mical whistled. "A nice collection. The one my Father got me for my fifth birthday was larger, but still..."

"How did you install this without anybody knowing?" Shishida asked.

"It took me a while. Had to do a great deal of the work at night. Noran helped speed things up considerably," Valia replied.

She gazed around the circular area, feeling a wash of nostalgia overcome her, even more so when she spotted the weapon she was looking for.

The double-bladed lightsaber was a dull metal gray. A set of three spikes on each end in a triangle pattern served as a blade guard. She pulled it reverently off the rack it had hung from and inspected it almost lovingly.

"Is that...his?" Mical asked.

"Yes," Valia said in as soft a voice as she was capable of nowadays. She hit the activation button and a bright orange blade shot out of both ends. She gazed at it, mesmerized, until she reluctantly shut it off and hooked it to her belt.

She brought out her com-link.

"Atton, get the others and meet me at these coordinates...we're cleaning house."


	20. The Nosferans

"Wow this sure is a lot of stuff. You won all of it in duels?" Atton asked as he loaded the final crate aboard.

"Yeah. Me and Noran liked to collect little nic-nacs. A hobby of ours," Valia replied.

"Who's Noran?" Atton asked, turning as he set the crate full of weapon in the back of the cargo hold.

Valia paused a moment before replying.

"Noran was my...we were close."

Atton struggled to control his surprise.

"Whoa. You were married? You?"

"I never said any such thing. I said we were close, that was all."

"I wasn't criticizing you or anything, I'm just surprised. You, uh, don't seem the type."

"It was during a time I thought I had things figured out," Valia grumbled, walking past Atton and inspecting the weapons containers. "Good. Looks like you didn't break anything."

"I'm a smuggler. I should know a thing or two about proper storage on a ship. Even a hunk of junk like this," Atton replied.

"Well, it has clearly paid off, I'll say that much for you," Valia replied. When she felt his stare she turned around.

"What is it Atton?"

"Nothing. I'm just curious about you. You and I don't have much chance to talk and this is the first time you've ever shared anything that private."

Valia stared at him.

"You're serious." It wasn't a question.

"Well, yeah."

"You first. Tell me about yourself," Valia replied, leaning against the cargo wall with her arms folded.

Atton whistled and leaned against a wall himself.

"Well, I probably already mentioned this earlier, but I come from money."

"That's right, you mentioned your dad had a million credit home, or something like that."

"Yeah. I came from old money. Corellian Money. My whole family was a bunch of snobs, so I don't miss 'em all that much. They didn't even see the need to fight the Mandalorians when war broke out. Wanted me to go to law school. Heh, can you imagine that? Me, a lawyer?"

"Given what I've seen of you, you'd either be brilliant at it or a miserable failure," Valia replied.

"My thoughts exactly. Well I was sick of listening to my dad. Nobody liked to disobey him, even my own mother, because of fear he'd cut them out of his finances. One day, we were arguing and I just told him to get spaced. I was a bit of a liberal back then. He cut me out of his will, threw me out on the street that very day. I didn't care, I was free. Free to do what I believed in. My first act of freedom was to break into his garage and steal one of his speeders. I vandalized the rest. Signed up for boot camp not two hours after that and haven't looked back since," Atton finished. "What about you?"

"Raised on Tython. Grew up in a small city called Edo. Liked to paint. I was submitted for martial training at age five. My step mother came to visit me every day."

"You mentioned something about that before, I think. What's Tythonese training like?"

"Excessively brutal. I was trained by warrior priests who demanded only the best. I excelled in my studies. Not that it helped in the end," Valia answered. "Enough story time. We need to get to Orlock. And you need to get back your Special Forces edge," Valia said as left the hold, leaving Atton to his bewilderment.

"How in the hell...?" he asked out loud.

"Bao-Dur, I don't believe this is proper. In fact, I venture to say it is...highly irregular," Mical said uneasily. "I understand Master Kreia is not the most popular sort on the ship but...she IS a Jedi Master, and antagonizing a Jedi Master is like...well, let us just say it isn't very wise and leave it at that."

"I don't know. I think it's funny," Shishida chirped, amused.

Bao-Dur had just finished crafting a droid he had been working on for the past few days at the work bench. It was a small one and had a basic humanoid appearance.

It had been crafted to resemble Kreia. It wore a little robe and had a mock-up of Kreia's face carved into it.

"Watch what it does," Bao-Dur said gently. He pressed a small button and the mini-droid hovered giving one of the best evil old lady cackles either of the three had ever heard.

"Okay, that's just downright disturbing. Just don't fly it in front of me. I'm probably going to have nightmares just looking at the thing," Mical said. He left for the cockpit.

"Fool! Fool!" The mini-droid cackled, zipping around in the air.

"Isn't it lovely?" Bao-Dur asked. "Pure craftsmanship. Created for no other purpose than to annoy. I've outdone myself. I think I'll go mess with Kreia now. Wish me luck!" Bao-Dur waltzed off to Kreia's chambers, the mini-effigy following close by.

Shishida tried not to giggle and grabbed Valia's arm as she was passing by.

"What is it?" Valia rasped.

"Watch this," Shishida smirked, leading her out of the garage and to the hall just outside Kreia's room.

There was a small shriek and Bao-Dur was running out of the room a second later, Kreia following with a look of murder on her face. The mini-droid flew out of the room at high speed, still chanting "Fool!"

"You are to stay away from me from this point forward, Alien. I'll not suffer your broken mind any further," Kreia clucked. She turned her head to Valia, who was doing her best not to smile even though she knew Kreia was blind.

"Exile," she said with gritted teeth. "Time and again, I've asked you to remove the madman from my chambers and yet still you insist on antagonizing me. Well, I'm putting my foot down this time. I want another bunkmate."

Valia sighed. "How about I pair you with Bastila. You two are perfect. Two people nobody likes."

Bastila had heard this exchange from the security room and walked out with a scowl.

"Valia, what makes you think I want to bunk with her? I don't trust the woman as far as I can throw her."

"You'll want to bunk with her because you will receive a headache if you don't," Valia replied with a glare.

Bastila sighed and went back to the security room. "As if Revan bossing me around wasn't bad enough, now I have this psycho giving me orders..." she said under her breath.

"Thank you, Exile," Kreia responded. With a curt nod, she walked back to her side of the ship.

Bao-Dur seemed rather nonchalant about the whole thing.

"I have absolutely no idea why she thinks changing my room is going to stop me. All it means is that I'll get more...creative," he said rather dismissively, heading to the garage.

"No more messing with her, Bao-Dur. That's an order," Valia said sternly.

"As you command, General," came the standard reply. But Valia suspected that Bao-Dur was simply humoring her...or he could be totally sincere. There was just no way of telling anymore.

"Atton! Get this ship into the sky! We're done here!" Valia ordered.

The Ebon Hawk lifted off ten minutes later, tearing through the sky just as dawn started to spread over the horizon.

An hour later, after playing yet another losing hand of pazaak with Atton, Valia went once more into the cargo hold to find a flustered Rookie staring at all the equipment that had taken up her training space.

"Don't worry, Rookie. You would not have learned much in such a confined space anyway. On Orlock you'll be able to really get some good experience. This ship is ideal for transport and insertion into a combat zone, but nothing else."

"It is alright. Truth is, I disliked the cold here," the Rookie replied, rubbing her shoulders. She sat down in a corner.

"I should warn you, Rookie. I expect much of you on Orlock. I want your best."

"I know. I will not fail you."

"I told you before, Rookie, don't fail yourself."

The Rookie nodded at this and a troubled look came over her face.

"Valia...when I killed today-and back on Coruscant-"

"Yes?" Valia inquired, sitting down next to her.

"I almost threw up."

"Same thing happened to me the first time," Valia replied, sensing where this was going. The Rookie would now need to be supervised constantly from now on. Valia could not afford a screw-up with the Echani. Too much promise, like Raya.

"I saw my staff smash through a man's mask back on Coruscant. The man-he had blue eyes. They blinked only a second before I delivered a knife hand to his neck and broke it. I kept dreaming about it the whole time we were on our way here."

"Your first kill. I warned you it would disgust you. My first kill was a Saatvan."

"A Saatvan?"

"A warrior. Real fanatical variant of Jedi. Want to conquer the whole Galaxy in the name of the light side of the Force. He was young. Barely in his twenties, I think. Bastards were ransacking my whole world and my school that I had just finished. Twelve years old, and I was in the middle of a civil war. Anyway, I snuck up on him and tried to drive a knife into his back. He heard me too early. He spun around. He spun around too late. I looked right into his eyes as the knife punctured his chest. The thing that really gets to you is the way the eyes cloud over before they go blank, like they're just not focusing on you."

"What did you do? How did you cope?"

"I didn't. Still had too much empathy. I vomited. Dropped the knife like it was a hot coal and seriously thought about running away-until a Saatvan came at me from behind with a lightsaber. I reversed his move and killed him with his own blade. I looked down in the valley below me and saw that the whole city was on fire. My stepmother was the one I was worried about. And then I began to kill in earnest. I still smell the bodies sometimes. Get nightmares over that sort of thing."

"Why would anybody want to be a warrior if they have to carry that much baggage?"

Valia paused a moment. How she answered was absolutely essential for the budding warrior next to her.

"I suppose it is the same reason you criticized everybody at the Grip. We have a duty. We are supposed to defend what is ours. Let go of a bit of ourselves for the greater good. Of course, nowadays, such reasoning gets muddied as we Force Sensitives whore ourselves out to the richest government that will have us. It also gets muddied because of the whole 'culture of violence' thing. I criticize the Jedi because they have become too aloof, too separated. I have never however, criticized the underlying goal."

"Which is-?"

"To stand up for your fellow men and women and shield them from evil. Of course, not everyone is capable of focusing on such a high minded goal. And the ones that are often give in to despair. I suppose the questions you should ask yourself are: What do I stand for? What am I defending? Is it worth defending?"

The Rookie nodded, considering this. Then she asked something else that put Valia on alert.

"Do you think I could ever become as skilled as my mother?"

"You can become as skilled as you want with effort. Everybody is different. Why do you ask?"

"When I was growing up, my father kept telling me these stories about her. I know there is nothing to miss and yet-"

"You feel like you know her?"

"In a strange way."

"Your mother made good impressions on people. Did your father...ever tell you how she died?"

"He refused to speak of it."

"Your mother died saving me."

The Rookie turned to Valia, eyes wide.

"It was the final battle of the Mandalorian wars. Malachor: The battlefield from Jigoku."

"Jigoku?"

"Tythonese word for Hell," Valia explained. "I had just finished eliminating some Jedi Shadows when I caught glancing blow from Mandalorian artillery. My side was split open and I was bleeding like crazy." Valia lifted up her robe and showed the Rookie the area she had been hit. It was an ugly, jagged scar that ran all the way up to her right breast.

"Arren was on the field and saw me get hit. She completely disregarded her orders. She carried me-I was partially paralyzed-on her shoulder, running the gauntlet through a kilometer of strafing fire from Mandalorian mounted repeaters. She just managed to get me on the last medical shuttle. And I was looking at her, flabbergasted that she would waste her time to save me, knowing what kind of person I was, even knowing I had tried to kill Revan."

"You mean she had found out?"

"I had confessed to her earlier. I intended to die on the planet and atone for my dishonor. Anyway, I asked her why she had saved me."

"What was her answer?" The Rookie was absolutely riveted now.

"She replied 'We all make mistakes. And you dying won't fix any of yours. Face them!' And she had this look of serenity on her. It was mesmerizing. I'd have cut my limbs off to feel that sort of enlightenment for even a minute. She was looking right at me, and I was looking at her through a window on the side. And then she Force pushed and ensign and another Jedi out of the way as a Mandalorian RPG hit her. I barely had time to mourn her death before I had to turn on the Generator," Valia replied grimly. "Your mother fit the definition of a warrior, as far as I am concerned. She was a Jedi no matter what Atris or those other asses say, and if anyone tells you different, slug 'em."

Valia stood up. "Thanks Rookie."

"For what?"

"I've had those words in me for a long time. It felt good to finally get them off my chest. I was worried they would sound hollow to me. You alleviated that fear. Enough story time, though. Try and prepare for Orlock."

With that, Valia left the hold, leaving the young Echani to stew on her words.

Four hours later, Ma'X'S'hreck System.

Orlock was a dark blue marble in space, pock marked by small continents. A greenish sheen covered most of them save for the continent they were now heading towards.

"Orlock. A hub of activity for our type," Shishida remarked proudly, hitting the ship transponder and entering in a code.

The response was immediate.

"This is Kasdor of Clan Baiken. Identify," came a deep voice.

"This is Shishida. Tell Gramps I'm coming in for a landing," Shishida answered in perky fashion.

"At once Lady Shishida. I'll have an honor guard waiting to meet you. Land at these coordinates." The transmission cut.

Atton stared at her. "Honor Guard?"

Shishida scratched the back of her head, clearly embarrassed. "Oh, nothing..."

Valia walked into the cockpit. "Orlock. Think I came here last when I was nine. Doesn't look to have changed much," she noted. "They still follow Tythonese tradition?"

"Of course! You know how posh your people's customs are with us," Shishida replied, playfully batting her eyes.

"Ain't that the truth," Valia replied dryly. She walked back into the holographic table of the ship and called everybody over.

"Okay, we're here. I'm going to go over a few pointers with you so you don't make an ass out of yourselves or, more importantly, me. One: Do whatever I ask you to do without question."

"Business as usual, in other words," Bastila mumbled.

"Go frak yourself, Bastila," Valia replied in offhand manner. "Two: If you come across any food you aren't sure about, ask me. I don't need you choking on something because you didn't know what it was."

"What do they have?" Kreia asked cautiously.

"All sorts of stuff. Some of it is pretty damn good, but even I will admit some of it seems to do little more than test your courage. Personally, I'd go with Sukiyaki. That will be pretty safe, being just noodles and sliced beef. The tea is also pretty good. Don't ask for caffa. They'll be insulted."

"Why?" Bastila asked.

"It has an unsophisticated taste to it. I had a cup once. Tasted like somebody had mixed soil and hot water together. Tea is the custom here. Or Sake. That's rice wine."

"Rice wine? It probably couldn't even make me dizzy," Atton scoffed.

"You'd be surprised. I recommend the Takayaki myself. That's fried octopus in batter."

"We get it, your people have cast iron stomachs," Kreia commented snidely.

"Go frak yourself, Kreia. Any other questions?"

None voiced any.

"Good. Be on your best behavior. And be prepared to work. Remember, we are on a schedule. Take us in, Atton."

A few minutes afterward, the Ebon Hawk descended through the swirling blue clouds. Atton spotted the docking pad and quickly landed, noting it was drizzling outside the ship.

Shishida was the first out when the ramp opened. A flank of men in scarlet robes and dark, burnished armor awaited the group outside. They carried lightsaber-lances, and used this to form an arch over them. Standing at the front of the arch was a man who had to be eight feet tall. His skin was pale and his eyes were covered by large dark goggles, his lower mouth covered by some kind of mask. He wore the same thing as the rest of the Honor Guard, but his robes had a swirling pattern that seemed to be hypnotic if one stared at it for too long.

"Lady, Shishida, welcome back home. The Holy Marshals are at your service," the man bowed.

"Always nice to see you Kasdor," Shishida replied happily. "My guests require food and shelter. Treat them with the same respect as you would me."

"Of course. Welcome to Orlock, all of you. Follow me." Kasdor and the Holy Marshals proceeded forward and the crew followed, taking in the scenery.

The thing that struck Atton initially was the simple set up of the city. The houses were built low to the ground, rectangular, with a curving roof structure. There were small lamps outside, and rosebushes in the front of every house. The street was paved with cobblestones, and Nosferans in blue and black robes milled about, gazing at the strange newcomers.

They walked for ten minutes on the street, then up a hill until they came to Shishida's home.

It was truly impressive. Built a story higher than the rest of the buildings they had seen, Cherry trees lined the path to the home. Wide and with a crescent shaped roof, it was painted black and had a number of impressive statues of animals serving as pillars in the structure. It was surrounded by grasslands and a forest of tall black leaved trees stood behind it.

"Wow," was all Bastila could say.

As they approached the entrance they saw an old man dressed in elaborate grey robes walking toward them carrying a torch in hand. His long beard went down pat his stomach and his head was shaved bald. Around his neck was a necklace of large beads and a curved lightsaber hilt was attached to his belt, made of what looked to be extremely precious metals. His deep red, eagle-esq eyes raked over the whole crew, but fell with delight onto Shishida.

"Grand Daughter! So good to have you home!" He held his arms out.

"Grandpa!" Shishida went over to him and hugged him fiercely. "Are you well?"

"Whenever you are here, my girl, whenever you are here. And who might your friends be?" he asked.

"Grandpa, this is the crew of the Ebon Hawk. They are on a difficult journey and wish asylum here so they can train properly."

"For you, anything. But I would hardly be a good host if I did not-wait, is that Ju-"

"Grandpa," Shishida said quickly before he could finish. "She goes by the name Valia Renn now."

"Changing names does not change the person. I thought that might be you, Little Scorpion!" he said happily, going over to hug Valia.

"Lord Syatoris," Valia said as warmly as she could, returning the hug.

"Ah, but what happened to your voice?"

"Warfare."

"Ah. Too often that is the case for many of our kind. But we can discuss all this inside. Come! My bones ache in this cold."

The group followed Syatoris Baiken into his home.

The crew waited in a small room with a polished wood floor. The Rookie milled about admiring the ink paintings on the walls and Kreia fiddled with a dagger on display. The crews shoes and boots lay to one side, having been told by Valia to remove them. Atton was just getting used to wiggling his toes when Valia came in through the sliding door that was seemingly made of paper, dressed in a white robe with a red scorpion emblazoned on the left sleeve with a sunflower wrapped around the tail. Black robed Nosferan servants followed her in, carrying a set of dark blue robes for each of them and a set of wooden sandals

"Switch out and put these on," she ordered.

The crew grumbled and changed as quickly as they could, she led them to a subdued looking dining room, the floor made out of black marble with veins of gold running through it. Strange looking dark red armor had been set up on display and a plethora of scrolls and swords lay on prominent stands everywhere in the rectangular room. There was no table, instead a set of individual black wooden trays. Atton tried to scratch his neck, the cotton of the robe making him itch until he caught Valia's familiar glare on him.

There were no chairs. Everyone got on their knees. Syatoris was at the right of the arrangement and servants began offering tea to the weary crew. Kreia took an experimental sip, seemed to like it, and drank more.

"So...'Valia'...tell me of your troubles," he asked just as Shishida entered in a blue silk robe. Valia was amazed at how different Shishida looked. Her hair had been combed back and the impeccable manners her grandfather had instilled into her were on full display. It almost reminded of her of when she and Shishida had been kids, their only ambition in the world being who could catch the most fish in the local stream.

Valia began to explain the situation and everything that had happened since Peragus. Syatoris' mouth stretched to a frown.

"Ah, the Sith. They never give up, do they? That is the one aspect in which they are more annoying than the Saatvans. And the Saatvans are finally making a move. I estimate maybe a month before they try and invade the Republic."

"They're that far ahead?" Valia asked, concerned. "The Republic won't be able to stand up to them in its state, not to mention the fact it is trying to replace the Jedi Order."

"They are fools. They have no proper system for training. Government regulation will undo them. It will radicalize the entire Force-Sensitive community against them...not that it hasn't been coming to that for years," Syatoris said dismissively.

"We have to crush the Sith though, or we will never be able to focus properly on the invasion. But my team isn't ready. We've been getting by but there are serious threats we are bound to run into. That is why I need time to train them before throwing them to the grinder."

"I understand your reasons. My resources are at your disposal. My people will hardly fair better if the Saatvans are allowed to run things. They consider us traitors to their beloved Amakusa. Maniacs," Syatoris said with disgust. "Tython has not fared well under their rule my dear. They replaced much of their forest with cityscape. The people are not allowed to practice any doctrine the Saatvans do not approve of. And they have all but destroyed the schools of martial arts that thwarted them for so long."

"Do you know of any in my clan who survive?" Valia asked.

"Only those who were on the fringes of membership survived. Other than that, I do not know. You may be the very last genuine member other than your fath-"

"He is not my father. I have no father," Valia said curtly.

Syatoris nodded. "You should begin your training tomorrow. But I would be a poor host if I did not feed you." Syatoris clapped his hands and servants brought in plates of raw meats and rice.

"Horse meat Sashimi and cooked rice. Valia's suggestion," Syatoris said happily. "Go on, eat!"

Atton looked slightly green. But his fear of Valia outweighed his taste bud's phobias. He picked up two lacquered sticks-apparently the eating utensils, and dipped the sliced thin horse meat liberally into the sauce provided and put it in his mouth.

It was the most delicious thing he had ever eaten. His eyes widened. He took another piece of the Sashimi and ate it without the sauce. Still delicious.

Kreia took a nibble and decided it wasn't that bad, and began eating liberally with the rest.

Valia, however, did not touch the Sashimi, instead eating the simple bowl of rice provided and sipping her tea as she watched the crew began to enjoy the strange food.


	21. Valia the Instructor

After the meal, each crew member was free to explore before heading to their assigned sleeping quarters.

Bastila had been absolutely fascinated studying the architecture, taking note of the statues based on animals. They were masterpieces. Ink paintings that had to be at least a century old hung on walls, protected by force fields that kept air out.

The wood the floor was made out of was so polished she could see her reflection perfectly out of it. Her stomach was rumbling in satisfaction because that was the first decent meal she had had in four years. Malnourishment obviously had done wonders for her taste in food.

The Revan in her was beside herself, scanning every inch of the place, not wanting to miss a single detail, one because this was the first time she had ever been in an area heavily populated by her own people and also because it was so beautiful.

Bastila came across a small room that had a museum type set up to it. She immediately went in and was stunned to find a set of armor that matched the design of Darth Revan's, standing upright inside a glass case.. The color scheme and patterns were completely different, though. It was dark blue and had rose patterns etched into the left side of the mask. Pictures of cherry blossoms were weaved into the cape and a larger variant of the Scythe-saber Shishida liked to carry was lain next to it reverently.

Bastila then took note of the imperfection. A small hole near the top of the mask. A puncture.

"Shishido Baiken's armor," rasped a familiar voice.

Bastila spun around and saw Valia standing in the doorway, wearing her typical grumpy look.

"Shishido?"

"Shishida's father," Valia explained. "You should head to your room."

"Valia, can I say something?"

Valia rolled her eye. "You have a mouth, don't you? Use it."

"I wanted to tell you how...how sorry I am. For Ukatis. For Noran..."

Valia stared daggers at her. Bastila gulped slightly. Thanks to Kashtu, Valia had developed quite a reputation even before Malachor. Bastila hadn't slept right for two weeks after the Ukatis Incident, worried Valia would try to murder her in retaliation.

"I'm sorry too," she replied coldly. "But it has been many years. Why bother trying to apologize now?"

"I'm being sincere."

"So am I."

"Valia, I know you and Noran were close but-,"

"Shan, I didn't lose just Noran because of your stupidity. I lost the baby I was carrying also," Valia snapped angrily.

Bastila went wide-eyed.

"You were pregnant?" she asked in almost a whisper, horrified.

"Yes. I've had a long time to mourn both. To bury both. Do me a favor and not dig them up. I don't need it. Just do as you're told and you and I will have as little problems as possible, and we can go our separate ways afterward. Don't shame you or me any further," Valia snapped. "Get out of my sight."

Bastila wisely chose to egress from the room, feeling sick. Valia paid her no heed as she left.

Valia closed off the rage building in her and explored the room. Her eye fell upon a particularly ancient lightsaber, with the Baiken Rose emblem etched into it.

"Hey there, Valia," Shishida said, walking in. "Didn't expect to find you here. I thought you'd be inspecting the armory."

"I like old things," Valia replied. She focused her gaze back to the armor.

"I'm surprised your grandfather didn't repair the mask," Valia remarked.

"It would have taken away the character of the thing. The story," Shishida said, touching the glass case.

"How old was I? Five? Six?" she asked.

"Five and a half," Valia answered. "They ever find the guy who did it?"

"Grandpa eventually tracked him down. Turns out the guy was dying of thoracic cancer. Grandpa didn't see the point. Karma had been meted out in full, it seems. Five years old, though, and Dad just had to get himself killed in a sword duel. What a waste of a good man."

"Indeed."

"It didn't help with Mother dying of grief not a month later leaving Grandpa raising yet another child."

"At least you didn't end up getting raised by the man who served as my father."

"You know, Valia, I never understood why you didn't just stay with us after Tython fell. Grandpa would have raised you as his own."

"Too much hate. Too much evil in me to make me safe for him to raise. And given the fact that Nosferans had just ravaged my world, I was...not in the mood, you know what I mean?"

"You could have worked past it."

"I needed to find myself. I needed to wander."

"Did you ever find yourself?"

"Only once. I lost it when I lost-never mind. It doesn't matter anymore," Valia said, shaking her head.

"No, tell me! It matters to me," Shishida said, putting a hand on Valia's shoulder.

Valia stepped away. "You don't need my baggage. Good night." With that, Valia left the room, leaving Shishida with all that remained of her father.

Atton had been dozing fitfully when a splash of cold water jolted him awake from the sleeping mat.

"Up!" Valia commanded, standing over him with another pail.

"What's going on?!" he exclaimed.

"Up!" Valia doused him again.

Atton scrambled up, groggy, soaking wet, and very upset. Visas had been doused with water also. She retained her reserve and thus managed to preserve some of her dignity. The Rookie was still shivering from the water and Bao-Dur was actively trying to drink what little of it he could in his hands. Mical also had a pail and proceeded to douse Kreia with especially ice cold water. The old woman jolted awake, upset and trying to figure out what was going on and why she was soaked. Bastila got a nasty surprise of cold water to and was also trying to keep from shivering.

"That took forever!" Valia barked. "Rookie, describe to me what just happened!"

"We were surprised," The Rookie said, finally suppressing the shiver.

"LOUDER, ROOKIE!" Valia shouted.

"WE WERE SURPRISED!" the Rookie shouted back.

"Damn right you were surprised! If I had been a Sith, you'd all be dead by now! That surprise is exactly what can happen on the battlefield! Your plans can go straight to hell in an instant! You must be nimble! You must adapt! Or you will die! AM I CLEAR!?"

"YES!" Shouted the crew, save for Kreia. Even Bao-Dur seemed to know now was not a time for fooling around.

"Move out! Follow Mical! Do not question him! NOW!" Valia barked.

The crew followed Mical immediately out of their quarters. Kreia started to follow but Valia stopped her.

"Not you, Kreia. I'm going to need you for an advisor."

"Then would you please explain to me why you had the Tiny Jedi douse me with water?" Kreia demanded to know.

"Everyone has to participate. And because it amused me," Valia replied casually. "I'm going to run them into the ground today. You and I are going to brief them on tactics against enemy Force powers. As a matter of fact, I'm going to need you for something like that..."

They started with a ten kilometer run.

That in of itself would not have been difficult-except for the fact that Valia had Mical and Shishida strap ten pound rocks to their arms, legs, and back. Valia then proceeded to have them run through the forest behind the mansion, which turned out to be filled with rocks, bramble, and poisonous plants and insects. The whole time, Valia barked at them to go on, sparing not a kind word for any of them. Of the five, only Atton and the Rookie seemed to adapt with any sort of success. Visas had nearly passed out during the run and Bao-Dur had sprained his ankle. (He commented on this as "Failing an endurance check") Visas Atton and the Rookie had then been forced by Valia to carry the heavy Zabrak to the end of their run, with Bastila barely keeping up.

To make matters worse, the whole time, it felt as though there was a something slowing them down, making them sluggish. Atton had felt sick. Visas had thrown up twice during the run. The Rookie had noted a mild dizziness. Bastila was able to counteract most of the symptoms by using the Force to heal herself.

That had been Kreia's work. Valia had told her to use the Force to afflict their bodies, poison their systems to test their endurance.

"Well, well, you actually completed it. I'm impressed. Two hundred and fifty pushups, all of you," Valia had then ordered once they had arrived back at the mansion.

Only the Rookie had managed to complete it without blacking out at all. Then, after Valia and Mical had used the Force to restore at least some of their energy, she had them practice hand to hand combat on her, lecturing them even as she knocked them to the ground, or knocked one of them out. They all had done poorly. Especially Bastila, who Valia had singled out to take some of the hardest knocks. There was absolutely no mistaking the hostility in the blows Valia gave her.

It was night time when Valia called it quits.

"That's enough for today," Valia said. "You all need to do better. Tomorrow will be worse."

With that, the Nosferan servants had passed out their sleeping bags. They were to sleep outside, when it was especially cold. The bags were thin, not enough to keep them warm. "Good night," Valia had said curtly before heading back to the mansion with Mical and Kreia.

When they were away from earshot of the trainees, Valia was the first to begin the assessment. "So, how did they do?" she asked.

"I'm slightly concerned about Bao-Dur. I didn't see the sprained ankle coming," Mical replied. "The Echani did much better than I thought she would. And Atton seemed like he'd been through this sort of thing before. Is he ex-military?"

"Special Forces," Kreia corrected. "But it is not my place to find out such things it seems."

"I don't need your complaints, I need your opinion. I can only focus on one of them at a time."

"And with that, you give away your true intent, Exile," Kreia almost sneered as they reached their sleeping quarters. "You are not concerned really about the others. The Echani is who interests you."

"So what if she does? I've taken her under my wing, but the last time I trained someone solo, I messed it up. I do not intend another failure."

"Your Echani has potential if you absolutely MUST know," Kreia answered. "I poisoned their bodies as much as I dared with the Force and yet it barely slowed her down. Her endurance is particularly high for a novice."

"I too noticed she seem barely fazed after the run. Given that she's Arren's daughter, she may be using the Force unconsciously to give her body a boost," Mical added as he removed his shoes and crawled into his cot.

"I agree. And the Miralukan?" Valia asked.

"She is simply unused to that kind of strain. I would not be too concerned. She will adapt," Kreia said dismissively, getting into a meditation position. "Bastila will remember her training and also adapt soon enough, with time."

"Time is a precious resource," Valia reminded. "It is something we do not have much of." She looked at Mical, who was already dozing off and saw that continuing conversation would be pointless. She left the pair in their unfurnished quarters and decided to walk her energy off.

"Hey guys, wanna here a joke?" Bao-Dur asked.

"We're trying to sleep Iridonian," the Rookie said tersely, rolling around in her sleeping bag.

"Okay, so one time, a Sith walks into a bar and tells a rival Jedi that he is so powerful with the Dark Side that he knows what the Jedi got for his birth day and the Jedi asks how he knows. The Sith replies that he felt the Jedi's presents."

"Shut up," Atton said. "I'm trying to sleep!"

"Maybe you are sleeping, and you are only dreaming that I'm annoying you. You ever think of that, Mister Smarty-Pilot?" Bao-Dur asked contentiously.

"I think I know when I'm awake. I also know I want you to shut up."

"And I know I want a piece of candy and hot chocolate. But neither of us is getting what we want, huh?"

Atton immediately rose up out of the sleeping bag, gruffly stuffed it under his arm, and headed closer to the forest line.

"Where are you going?" the Rookie asked.

"Somewhere I don't have to listen to that nutcase. If Valia don't like it she can go frak herself," Atton replied.

"It's only a temporary solution, I assure you. I'll see you tomorrow! We'll go dancing! I'm pretty good at your average jig!"

Atton did not reply as he walked out of sight.

"Note to self: Inject him with unknown substance later. Preferably something you yourself are unfamiliar with and don't even know the name of," Bao-Dur said to himself.

"Valia would not like that," the Rookie tried to remind him.

"Valia could write a volume on stuff she doesn't like. And while reading that volume would be entertaining and good for my personal social and spiritual growth, I have enough sense to know that it would not be enough to stop me. Good night. By the way, would you like me to draw anything on your face while you are sleeping? I draw good gizkas and my happy faces are getting quite respectable,"

"Uh...no?"

"Hmm. Just making the offer. Sleep tight! I'm off to snore in an exaggerated fashion until I actually fall asleep and you can't tell whether I'm awake or not but it is always safe to assume I'm actually awake when I'm snoring because I never actually sleep." Bao-Dur then closed his eyes and began loud, obviously fake snoring.

The Rookie, still trying to process the conversation she had just had with Bao-Dur, was left wondering whether or not she should follow Atton's lead and sleep away from the Zabrak.

The Rookie then realized that she would not be able to sleep at all. She was suspicious about some of the people she was now working with, like Bastila. She wasn't sure, but there was something...off about the woman. Visas was Sith, and probably going to turn on them at some point. The man at the Grip may have been an exception. But everybody knew that all an exception does is proving the rule.

And yet...the Rookie was very disturbed about the fact that Atris had been so terribly mistaken about Valia. She had heard Atris talk of her much, saying how she was corrupt and evil. Maybe Valia was corrupt perhaps, but evil? The Rookie was at odds with that claim.

Valia did not strike her as particularly evil, just...burned out. Weary. Regret filled. And her mother had fought alongside her, had chosen to save her life even after Valia had confessed the truth. Arren Kae must have seen some merit, and the Rookie knew Valia had been telling the truth, not just because Valia did not seem the person to lie about that, but because, the Rookie had carefully observed Valia's body movements during the discussion. They had the mark of someone confessing something incredibly painful.

Her thoughts drifted however, back to her mother. Her father, Yusanis had told her many stories of Arren's greatness. And each time he had told them, the Rookie had felt that familiar tingling starting in her stomach and creeping into her spine.

Ambition.

She immediately tried to force it back down. Her sisters had taught her to fight as part of a group. There was no "I". There was no room for it.

And after her father had died, there had been no room for much of anything. His wife, mother of five of his kids, had been eager to rid herself of the illegitimate child, and had shipped her off at Atris' request. Atris and Yusanis' wife went back some years and Atris had a need for someone discreet, someone who could act as courier and messenger without drawing much attention. There was a certain kind of irony to this, as in sending the Rookie away she had been spared from Revan's invasion of the Echani homeworld and the violent Echani insurgency that had engulfed the planet. The Rookies remaining sisters had come to Atris as refugees, and it was only the Rookie's request that had made Atris take them in. The Rookie had always felt her half sisters had never appreciated this fact nor had they forgiven it, and so plied themselves as body-guards when Atris had found a need for such a thing later on, once more leaving her in the dust.

The Rookie suddenly realized she had never particularly liked that aspect of the relationship. It angered her. Maybe that was why she was the poorest combatant of them, not because she was bad or anything, but because she simply no longer respected her own kin enough to give them her best.

Maybe that was why she had run off with the Exile. To ward off the clinical depression.

The Rookie gazed at the stars, and found herself counting them. Yusanis told her that Arren had used to do this a great deal, and the Rookie could understand why. It was a great way to fall asleep, even with the cold, and the bugs nipping at her.

She heard the soft footsteps on the grass and instantly turned around, spotting Valia raising a wooden sword against her.

The Rookie scrambled up and got into a defensive position.

"Huh. Good. You were prepared. Easy now. No need to get all defensive," Valia assured.

The Rookie did not come out of her defensive stance.

At this Valia nodded approvingly. "Good. You're smart enough to not fall for that old trick. I'll try and attack you at random from now on, see how quickly you react. Being prepared to fight is not enough. You have to think and react under pressure as well."

"I understand, Mis-I mean, Valia," the Rookie answered, still not lowering her defense.

"Pardon?"

"Nothing. I await training, as always," the Rookie, answered, noting how distressingly close she had come to calling Valia her _mistress._

"You're always training, Rookie. There is no 'awaiting' anything."

The Rookie nodded. Valia nodded back and went back to the mansion.

The Rookie, now knowing she would never get any sleep tonight, decided to practice some more. She started with the simple moves Valia had told her to stick to and then began to move faster, careful to keep an eye on her surroundings, lest Valia try and surprise her again.

Atton felt something poke him.

"Wakey wakey, Mister Smarty-Pilot," Bao-Dur said, poking his forehead with a small branch he had found.

"Dammit, Zabrak, how did you find me?" Atton groaned, rubbing stiff muscle joints.

"I had a wonderful sleep also, Atton. Thanks for asking. First I counted little gizka hopping over a small fence like they were on stims and then I dreamt about long training sequences like the one we're about to go through. I mean, how interesting is that? Wild, huh?" he asked, poking him again with the branch, this time in his eye.

Atton angrily grabbed the branch from Bao-Dur and tossed it as far as he could.

"Aw that was my favorite branch! I had even given it a name. It was Ellzee. Good name. Anyhoo, Valia says she has something special in mind for us today."

"What?"

"A ten kilometer run, but a drill in breaching before that. I didn't get it though, because I wear breaches. Not all that comfortable. But they're fashionable, let me tell you..."

"Is she upset?"

"No, but it won't take much to get her to that state, trust me."

"Where is she?"

"In the city. Shishida set up a small house to practice. Come, we'll have an epic journey while we walk there if we're quick enough!"

Atton groaned. Breaching procedure. He hated those. But not as much as he hated getting chewed out by the one eyed ice queen.

Atton got up from the ground and dusted himself off. "Hurry up. I haven't got all day."


	22. The Stars Aren't In Your Favor

Dantooine, nineteen years ago.

Valia cautiously peeked around a corner and quickly pulled back as she spotted more of the masked Sith proceeding down the darkened halls away from them.

Valia watched them go and turned to Bron-Son.

"Three hostiles. Heading for the direction of the library. They're mine."

"If you say so," Bron-Son shrugged, taking position behind a corner with Dimmak.

Valia pulled out a knife and proceeded quietly forward. Bron-Son seemed amazed that she could move that silent.

She was almost on top of them when one of them turned around and fired a tranquilizer dart at her.

Valia keeled over and didn't move again. Bron-Son drew his pistol and prepared to fire and Dimmak prepared to leap for the Sith and tear them apart. But, for some reason, the Force told him to stay in hiding.

"Target down," the Sith said. "Prepare her for transport to Lord Ptolemus."

Just as two of the three Sith picked her up, Valia wrenched out of their grasp, jamming the tranquilizer dart she had caught into the neck of one and then violently snapping the neck of the other while Force-gripping the final target's heart and squeezing, bursting the organ painfully.

"Target down," Valia repeated, stomping on the neck of the one of the still conscious Sith and breaking it.

Bron-Son came out of hiding.

"Hot damn, I like this girl! She's violent!" he said, beaming. "When they made you they broke the mold!"

"I wasn't made. I was born."

"Eh, same thing. You're gonna go places, girl. I can tell you that much. Right, Dimmak?"

The mummified warrior seemingly hissed in agreement, nodding.

Valia sighed. There was obviously no changing his mind that she was created by the black arts.

"We need to intercept any more who may be heading to the library. All the younglings are there already or are heading there."

"Now hold on there, just a second. You should let me take care of that problem. The less you are put at risk, the better. As things go, we really should be trying to get you out of here, if the Sith have such a need to capture you."

"I can handle myself."

"I have no doubt of that. But the Sith Philosophers like to play rough. And Darth Ptolemus won't let you go without blood being shed."

"I can kill him."

"Yeah. Sure. Vandar couldn't do it in his prime. Jolee couldn't do it. Kreia couldn't do it. Vrook sure as hell couldn't do it. Both I and Dimmak tried to at the same time, and we couldn't do it. What makes you think you can?"

"I did it before."

"I heard about your little mind tussle with him. You honestly think he would have dived into a mind he wasn't absolutely sure he couldn't extricate himself from?"

"So he was toying with me?"

"Yeah."

"He won't survive the real deal then," Valia replied with a snort.

No sooner than Valia had said this than a wall in front of them exploded. A group of masked Sith stepped through the smoking hole the blast had made, pointing stun rifles at Valia.

Bron-Son cursed, twirling his pistols.

"Change of plans, girl. Go with Dimmak. That's a direct order."

Valia stared at him for a moment as the Sith advanced

"Fine. But don't let the bastards take this part. Ask for two Padawans named Mical and Atris when you're done. See if they're okay."

"Will do, Padawan. But now you have to leave." Bron-Son turned to Dimmak, who nodded and then gestured for Valia.

Valia went over to him and the pair began sprinting to the sub-level exit as Bron-Son started firing madly.

As they approached the exit, Valia heard a whimpering ahead. She saw Dimmak tense up and ready his lightsaber.

As they got closer to the source, Valia recognized a familiar voice.

"Gah! Let go of me!" screamed Atris.

"Dear, I just captured you. I went to a LOT of trouble to do so. Do you really think you need to make that request?" asked the synthesizer-disguised voice of a woman.

Valia and Dimmak turned around a corner, the need to exit forgotten.

Valia spotted the Sith who had Atris in a chokehold. She was wrapped in a series of black leather bindings and thigh high boots which showed no skin, the bindings like swathes of shadow clinging to her, the boots pointed and cruel looking with slightly pointed heels. The face was, like the rest of her ilk, concealed by a terrible bone white mask, with a silver chainmail cowling fastened to the back of the mask.

"Let her go, Sith!" Valia snarled.

"Ah, Valia. I was wondering when we would run into one another," the Sith replied, releasing Atris, who scrambled out of her reach and went to Valia's side. "Lord Ptolemus has told me much of you."

"You need to get better sources, then," Valia growled.

"Allow me to introduce myself." The Sith took a bow. "My name...is Darth Thrasyllus."

"Are all the Sith names that painful to pronounce or just yours?" Valia asked, stalling to analyze Thrasyllus' posture, and troubled that she could not find any flaws in the Sith's stance. The woman also looked like she was in peak physical condition. As good in health as Arren looked.

"He also told me of your...misconceptions concerning us."

Valia folded her arms. "No misconceptions. You guys are nothing but a bunch of barbarians. Killing you is a public service. And I always like to do my part in public safety."

"I see the Jedi have wasted no time poisoning your mind, girl," Thrasyllus replied. She reached behind her back and pulled out a card. It was fairly large and had nothing but a picture of stars on it.

"The stars are not in your favor this day, girl. The constellations are incorrect," Thrasyllus said ominously. She tossed the card in Valia's direction.

Before Valia could react, the card burst into a spectacular shower of blinding sparks. Valia saw only white before she sensed a knife hand coming for her stomach.

She back flipped out of the way-and was suddenly struck by a kick.

And she still couldn't see.

Valia hit the floor coughing. Dimmak charged only to be caught by an absurdly powerful kick from Thrasyllus that sent him into a wall, cracking it on impact. Before he could even react, Thrasyllus was on him. She moved as swiftly as mercury, slamming a fist into him and snapping his head back. Then she picked the snarling warrior up and tossed him head first into another wall, where he crashed into a room on the other side.

"So this is the mighty Dimmak. I admit, I am...surprised I am not getting more of a fight from you. I was expecting more," Thrasyllus said, approaching like a stalking predator. "The stars don't favor you, it seems."

Dimmak gave a bone chilling roar and leapt up, slamming his fist into her abdomen as hard as he could.

She was sent flying into the impact crater Dimmak had just made. She rolled out of the way just as Dimmak threw his lightsaber at her. Thrasyllus charged forward at inhuman speed and rammed Dimmak before he could swing the second lightsaber. She wrenched his weapon away from him as he tried to get up and kicked him hard enough to send him sliding across the floor.

Valia, in the meantime, had been helped up by Atris and could see well enough to attack.

"Run! Don't look back!" she yelled at the Echani. Atris didn't need to be told twice and ran for her life.

Thrasyllus had just gotten Dimmak into a headlock when Valia tackled her, knife in hand. She tried to bury it in the female Sith's chest, but Thrasyllus managed to punch Valia hard across the jaw and slammed her arm into the floor, making her drop the knife. Force pushing Dimmak further away from them across the hall, Thrasyllus then pulled another card with a picture of stars on it and threw it at the ceiling over Dimmak.

The blast buried the howling warrior in a mountain of rubble.

"Better. Now we are all alone," Thrasyllus said as Valia righted herself.

"You really shouldn't struggle, my dear. Lord Ptolemus would hate to see you injured too terribly."

Valia tried to pull out the flak gun hidden in her robe but Thrasyllus tossed another of her cards at the barrel of the weapon. It burst into a shower of sparks, hitting her weapon and melting its barrel.

"I'm impressed. You are more enterprising then most of the Jedi I have met."

Valia tossed her ruined weapon away and drew her hands into a pincer shape.

"CQC, eh? You really like playing that game, or so I have heard."

"You know nothing of me."

"I know you aren't from around these parts. I know you are the missing link in our research. And I know it is us you truly belong with."

"I decide who I fight for!" Valia spat.

Thrasyllus shook her head.

"Ah, well, not is not the time to convince you. In fact, we're running out of it. So, if you don't have a problem with speeding things up, I'm going to take you home, now."

"Not if I have anything to say about it."

"In this case you don't. You-feeling strange, right about now?"

Valia felt a tingling on the sides of her head.

My outfit has a very special compound applied to it. It is designed to paralyze Force Sensitive nervous systems. I just covered your face in it. You should be taking a nap right about..."

Valia didn't hear most of it. She had already hit the floor, her last thoughts cursing her own stupidity.

"...now," Thrasyllus finished. Checking Valia's pulse, she pulled out her com-link. "We got her. Heading to extraction point."

Darth Ptolemus arrived as soon as he got word. His shuttle docked at the cloaked pad on the other side of the planet. Not wasting time, he went ahead of his Sith bodyguards and to a patch of grass on the ground, paying no mind to the peaceful surroundings. Reaching the edge, he stuck his fingers under the patch and hit a hidden there.

The patch slid back, revealing a staircase. He promptly descended into it, His masked bodyguards following with rifles.

The interior of the cavernous facility inside looked like it could have been part of some cross between an industrial construction facility and a hospital. Masked Sith scurried about hurriedly, seeing to some task or another, and Ptolemus' eyes adjusted to the darkness of the facility. Stepping over a few large cables snaking across the dirty concrete floor, he quickly headed for the med-bay, brushing past dozens.

He reached the entrance to the med-bay and stepped inside the decontamination chamber. The bright green lasers in the sterile white chamber quickly ran over him and his bodyguards, before admitting him to the other side.

He strode past the Kolto tanks and beds and stepped into the observation theater where Darth Thrasyllus was waiting.

"I brought her in an hour ago. Hippocratus is besides himself. Security removed a dozen weapons from her person. Seven of them were knives, one of them was a slug thrower of some kind, and the last was some kind of whip with a lightsaber attached to the end," Thrasyllus informed him.

Ptolemus glanced down the at the operating table where Valia Renn had been restrained and sedated, still wearing her robes. In the theater below the window was a Sith in bright red robes like freshly drawn blood from a scalpel against skin. Unlike the other Sith, his mask was red, with white strips of color above the brows.

"Subject has obviously seen heavy combat. Reflexes are exceptional. Muscle tone excellent. I've only seen one other such physical specimen. And so strong in the Force!" Darth Hippocratus exclaimed, his voice a cold yet regal tone, turning to Ptolemus in the observation window.

"Can you venture a guess as to what purpose she was made for?" Ptolemus asked over the intercom.

"I cannot say. At first I was tempted to say 'Super Soldier', but her abilities don't seem to be that specific. No modifications for that sort of thing to the adrenal glands or nervous system. In fact, as a specimen for her kind goes she is very unusual. I can't seem to find any modifications at all."

"Then it is true. She isn't flawed."

"Indeed, A superior specimen. I've had to repeatedly give her tranquilizer to keep her from waking up since she got here."

"Wake her," Ptolemus ordered.

Hippocratus paused. "My lord, is that wise? I was informed of her violent tendencies-"

"If she is truly secure, then you have nothing to worry about."

"You aren't down here. YOU don't have to worry about getting bitten," Hippocratus grumbled, reaching for a stimulant hypo. He injected it into her neck.

Valia Renn's eye fluttered open. She tried to move, only to find the reinforced restraints. She spotted Hippocratus and glared at him.

"Hello, Miss Renn. I am Darth Hippocratus, I'll be your doctor for this evening."

"Is that so? I got a cavity here, maybe you should check it," Valia replied, voice dripping contempt and sarcasm.

"I very much value my fingers here, thank you very much."

"It ain't just your fingers you should worry about," Valia replied, making note of the sterile white surroundings.

"Ah, you like the surgical theater? My pride and joy," Hippocratus said proudly, gesturing around him. "Many of your type have been born in the very spot you are standing. You do understand what you are, don't you?"

"I am a killer. I'm good at it. What else need be known?"

"Oh, please no need to define yourself by such an absolute! I wasn't even referencing your...proclivities for violence. You've proved that quite handily slaughtering four of our men. I was asking if you are aware of your origins, your purpose."

"My origins are the womb of my mother. My purpose was to give her joy," Valia replied.

Uncertain as to whether or not this was a cryptic statement, Hippocratus pressed the issue. "And who was your mother?"

"My mother was my mother."

"Where are you from?"

"Far off."

"Don't bother, Hippocratus. You won't get any information out of her like that," Ptolemus said over the intercom. "And how are you feeling, Milady?"

"Like dancing...on your skull. Ready for round two? Got a whole lotta techniques to try out on you. I'm wondering which one will kill you first."

"Charming as always, Milady," Ptolemus sighed. "How many times must I press my case to you Milady? We are not your enemies. We are your only real family."

"I will choke the life out of you for that statement alone."

"Milady, again you shame me."

"Shame you? You shame ME. I know who my family is, and you are not of them."

"You are not giving us much of a chance to be, in all fairness."

"I don't need the kind of family that sticks a knife in my back at the first chance."

"You are thinking of Exar Kun's kind of Sith. We are not of those barbarians," Thrasyllus added.

"Sith are Sith are Sith. I don't care what permutation of the Sith belief you adhere to. I'm still going to gut every last one of you."

"Not a very Jedi thought," Thrasyllus said in a teasing fashion.

"I am not a Jedi yet. I'm still a little hazy on procedure."

"No, I don't think you are, Milady. I think you are perfectly aware of what the Jedi preach. This is why you belong with us and not them. We have many ways to accommodate your type. But once you meet Kashtu, I'm sure she will know how to best utilize you," Ptolemus responded, hope evident even through the synthesizer.

"Huh. So where is your boss, anyway?"

"Not here. We think she is dead. Unless you care to correct us on the issue," Thrasyllus suggested.

"I wouldn't know one way or the other."

"You will soon. You have my word," Ptolemus assured.

"Your word means kek to me, Sith."

"I know you think little of us, Milady. We have had to resort to rather unpleasant methods to acquire you. But it was you who drove us to move early against the Enclave. You are just as responsible as we for the current situation. Perhaps you should be willing to consider that there are other ways to improve your situation other than sheer brute force. If not for your own good, than perhaps for another..."

At that moment, an unconscious Atris was wheeled into the theater on a gurney, restrained like Valia was.

Valia was expressionless. Everyone there however could feel the white hot rage spike in her. Thrasyllus took a step back, as the rage almost seemed to leap out of Valia's body and banged against the glass, determined to rip her to shreds.

The observation window shattered.

"I'm going to kill you," Valia reaffirmed. "All of you." The voice was deadly quiet, emotionless, and barely sounded human in the passing of sentence on all of the Sith present. Darth Ptolemus was undeterred.

"Atris can be here as a companion or insurance, Milady. The choice to cooperate is yours. Now will you answer our questions?" he asked.

"Go to hell."

"You risk Atris' safety, Milady."

"Atris desires to be a Jedi as much as I. She knew the risks. And you know full well it'll only make your fast approaching death that much more painful. You'll get nothing from me, maggot."

Ptolemus was silent for a moment, before he left, with Thrasyllus following close by. He dismissed his bodyguards.

"Much defiance in that one," Ptolemus said. "I didn't see that coming."

"That's military training she's got. Someone taught her not to crack. Now what do we do?" Thrasyllus pressed, crestfallen that Valia was so hostile to people she should have been allies and friends with.

"She won't go for the ruse. You and I know that anything we did to the Echani would only steel Valia against our reasoning."

"Perhaps the solution still lies with the Echani. We just have not been going about this the right way. Maybe Valia needs a friendly face to convince her," Ptolemus suggested, turning to Thrasyllus.

"Are you suggesting we try to turn Atris? I would welcome the opportunity. The girl should have been mine to begin with," Thrasyllus spoke with an eager tone. "I mean, she was always a bundle of obsessive compulsive tendencies, but an excellent student regardless. Every Master she ever trained with both before and after me has held similar views. It'll be good to finally complete her training."

"I figured you would like the chance. That was one of the reasons I told you to acquire her," Ptolemus acknowledged.

"I'll get started immediately, then. But what about Valia?"

"I have my own plans for her. Leave that to me..."

Orlock, Present Day.

Valia snapped out of the memory as Atton finished the third breaching drill of the day. Syatoris' servants had acquired an unused square house with chipped grey paint, a rounded wooden roof and a crumbling foundation close to the city and just on the edge of the woods. it was midday.

"Good. You're getting quicker. You shaved a second off your time. And Rookie! Not bad either. But Bastila, what the hell was that back there? Why didn't you check your corners?!"

"I forgot," Bastila answered, weary of dying in this impromptu simulation. The five had tried to clear the house of threats more than three times, but Bastila kept screwing it up.

"Can we please stop now?" Atton whined, exhausted.

"Hardly. We're just getting started. Ten kilometer run, on the double."

Atton sighed as the servants began to tie the ten pound rocks to the arms and legs of himself Visas, the Rookie, Bastila, and Bao-Dur.

"I expect you to get it done quicker," Valia ordered. "Move. Now. Through the forest."

Atton mumbled something as they began to run into the woods.

Kreia walked up next to them. "You might want to refrain from pushing them too hard, Exile. Even the best pupils can train only so much before they're worthless."

"I know what I'm doing Kreia. Just do your job and make them sick with the Force."

"I'm already doing that. Again, the servant of Atris seems barely affected."

Valia looked up in the sky. It was already noon, and some sunlight was starting to show through.

"You are distressed," Kreia noted, trying not to sneeze at the pollen in the air.

"I was just thinking back to the time I was captured. The memory just seemed to hit me suddenly. It was like I had no control. And there was something else, too."

"What?"

"I'm seeing things, other events besides my own perspective. Events I could not possibly have witnessed firsthand."

"It is a consequence of your Miralukan heritage, Exile. Your mother was capable of seeing past events in an extremely clear manner, aided by the Force."

"I don't know, Kreia. It seems too...forced."

"Visions often happen against people's will. It has happened to me plenty of times. I suggest you relish the chance while you can. It is not every day one gets to see their life in a new light."

"I just wish it wouldn't keep happening every few days or so. It is becoming distracting."

"Were you ripped out of it just now?"

"Yeah. It showed me something about one of the Sith Philosophers. Thrasyllus, I believe."

"What did the memory tell you?"

"It showed me that Thrasyllus knew Atris somehow. Explains why Atris was always jittery about being alone afterward."

"Hmm...It would explain a few things. It was a classic tactic of theirs. Make a Jedi think that anyone around them could be an infiltrator and you double the chances of turning that Jedi into a nervous wreck."

"It must have worked on Atris."

"It would not surprise me if that were the case," Kreia replied in droll fashion. "I can help you explore the memory more, later on, if you wish. Help you control it."

"Yeah. Later," Valia replied, cringing at the idea of letting the old hag back into her mind.

Kreia nodded and walked off into the forest to follow the four.

Mical, who had been putting the blaster carbines they had used in the drill away into the weapons case that had been brought along, wiped his hand clean and watched Kreia go.

"What are your thoughts on her, Kid?"

"Sith. She hides most of it well, but there were a few slip-ups that gave her away," Mical replied casually.

"Such as?"

"Such as the fact that the Force Sensitive underground has a million credit bounty on her head."

"What did she do?"

Mical turned to her with a cynical look in his eyes. "Valia, she's Sith. What DIDN'T she do?"

Valia chuckled as best as she was able. "Good point. Question is, now what do we do?"

"We'll have to play it out to the end. I wouldn't worry. From the looks of it, she hasn't got anything I haven't seen before. Just say the word, though, and I can prepare a few choice Sith poisons for her by tonight."

"Nah. We'll go with your first suggestion. Watch her."

"Of course, Valia."


	23. Hair Trigger

It had been yet another hard day. They had been run into the ground yet again until nightfall, and the moonlight was now shining brightly, the blue glow dancing across the surface.

After nearly a week of being drilled by Valia, the Rookie felt like she wanted to collapse inward on herself as she pulled the covers of the sleeping bag over her head. Atton had started snoring the instant he put his head on the pillow, and Visas was snoring louder than she thought it possible to snore.

The Zabrak, however...

"You know, after a week of running me ragged, You'd think I would not have any energy left to be my usual, happy-chap-self, but I'm not even feeling winded," Bao-Dur said, going into yet another of his rants.

"You belong in a straight-jacket," the Rookie said irritably.

"It's the other way around, freaky white haired lady. And look, Valia's about to ambush you-"

The Rookie rolled out of the way as Valia tried to smack her with a quarterstaff. The Rookie tackled Valia and the two started pummeling each other as they rolled down a grassy hill. The Rookie winced as she felt a sharp rock slide against her ribs as Valia hit her with an elbow to the cheek.

They finally stopped rolling at the bottom of the hill and Valia got up, slightly dizzy.

The Rookie didn't waste the chance. She launched a kick at Valia's stomach so hard that Valia actually doubled over in pain as the Rookie slammed her fist into Valia not a second afterward. Then she stepped back.

It was the wrong move. Valia moved almost too fast and almost got her hands around the Rookie's throat before the Echani squirmed out of the move and kicked Valia's legs out from under her. Valia shot up immediately and charged.

The Rookie panicked. She wasn't sure what happened next, all she knew was that suddenly her hand was open palmed, out-stretched in front of her, and Valia was flying backward into a boulder.

Valia hit the large rock hard enough to make it shatter a bit in the impact zone.

"Valia!?" she cried, rushing over as Valia got up.

Valia was coughing. Some blood trailed from the corner of her mouth and she righted herself.

"What happened?" the Rookie asked.

"You Force pushed me. Hard. Real hard."

"I'm sorry. It was an accident."

"It wasn't an accident, Rookie. It was instinct. You're starting to obtain you mother's reflexes."

"I-I shouldn't have done that. I violated my oath."

"What oath?"

"I am sworn not to follow the path of the Jedi. I shouldn't even have been able to."

"It was no crime to do as you did," Valia replied gruffly, coughing some more. "Damn, that hurt."

"But what am I if I violate my oath? Like...like my mother violated hers?"

"Alive, and flawed like the rest of us," Valia replied, coughing some more and wiping the blood from her mouth as she began sitting cross-legged in the moon light. "Saying an oath doesn't make it true. Hell, most of 'em are not even worth following. Take the Jedi Code for instance. While I value the sentiment, I completely disagree with them on almost everything. Why do you think so many violate the code? That code is a running joke in many circles, not the least of which is the larger community of Force Users."

"They violate it because they were not properly trained."

"In some cases yes. But the real problem is that violators get a dose of reality once they try and live in the real world, and once they see how even the simplest things cannot be resolved easily by the Jedi Code, a feeling of despair sets in. For some who lived the Code to the absolute moral extreme, the fact that reality regularly defaces their ideals can be a little too much for them to bear. That is more than likely how you get the worst of the Darths. Others are arrogant little keks who should never have been shown the Force to begin with, Ulic Qel Droma being a prime reason why we need screening processes for older individuals and Exar Kun for why we need to stop getting 'em so young. Hell, a couple of therapists wouldn't hurt either."

"Why therapists? Isn't meditation supposed to quiet the soul of a Jedi?"

"Nah. I'll let you in on a little secret; Meditation is uncomfortable and boring as kek. All it amounts to is sitting down for a couple of hours with your eyes closed, trying to tell yourself to stop thinking. And you never really stop thinking. You only really stop thinking when you actually DO something. But getting back to my point, the reason I think Jedi need to visit therapists on a regular basis is because of the work they engage in."

"I would think someone would feel good about protecting the galaxy."

"Think about it, Rookie. Both you and I-whether you will admit you are of us or not-engage in heavy fighting on a regular basis. If it isn't some two-bit bounty hunter taking a cheap shot at you, it is your run of the mill Dark Jedi trying to make a name for himself or some Sith Lord who wants you dead. An entire sub-culture of people who do nothing but train to kill and destroy other people just like them, and you don't think that would get to someone after a while, that it wouldn't build up slowly, the frustration at knowing you probably will be dead before you hit forty, that some thug may get lucky and shoot you in the back or some Sith will leave you in a ditch somewhere as a snack for maggots? What about the fact that to the rest of the Force using population at large, the Jedi are a bomb waiting to go off? You don't think that requires counseling, maybe some anti-depressants?"

"I...think I'm beginning to understand," the Rookie replied cautiously, getting in a cross legged position opposite of Valia. "So you think the primary reason Jedi fall is because they don't have any emotional support?"

"More than likely," Valia rasped. "But in short Rookie, you aren't violating anything. It is part of you. It flows through you. Atris asks you to hold to an oath not to be a Jedi. Did she say anything about not knowing the Force?"

The Rookie raised an eyebrow. "Atris told me you would often use these sorts of loopholes."

"Oh? What else did she say?"

"She said that-well, she is hostile to you, so it isn't difficult to imagine."

Valia chuckled. "That bad, huh?"

"When she would talk of you, it could get extremely ugly in her descriptions."

"I was an ugly person back then. Hell, I'm still no prize."

"But yet, at the same time...there was a genuine sense of hurt and loss regarding your departure from the Order. She hid it well, but it would creep into her voice now and then."

"Me and Atris were pretty tight back in the old days. Helped me pass some of the more difficult Jedi classes by giving me critical information and I often gave her backup. She was the girl everybody loved to tease. I...stopped the teasing," Valia said with a wry grin. "So what do you say, Rookie? Wanna read through the fine print?"

"If you are referring to the use of the Force, I..." the Rookie paused. Why was she so hesitant to say no? The oath not to follow in the path of the Jedi also implied not learning the Force, but the Jedi and the Force were not the same thing.

Surely it couldn't hurt to learn one small thing?

"I guess it wouldn't hurt to try learning the ability to push something," the Rookie answered, heart fluttering out of the defiance to her oath.

Nodding Valia stood up and helped the Rookie to her feet. They then focused on the rock Valia had impacted against.

"A Force push is half instinct, half will. Basically, you have to send your will against something for a split second. Kinda like striking a match in your mind. Now, hold your arm out, take deep breaths," Valia instructed, straightening the Rookie's right arm to the correct position. "Now, focus."

The Rookie concentrated. Nothing happened. She strained her arm, trying to simply will the energy locked away in her body to hit the rock. Nothing.

After a minute or so, Valia gently pulled the Rookie's arm down. "It's okay, Rookie. As you yourself said, it was an accident. Truth be told, I would have been surprised if you-"

The energy that erupted from the Rookie's right hand made Valia jump back in surprise as the ball of Force energy slammed into the rock, splitting it right down the middle and causing the left half to break into chunks.

The Rookie looked at Valia with total surprise. "I-I did it!" she said, excited.

"I'm impressed, Rookie. But you need to learn to control the burst. That's the kind of push you use against a vehicle or door. For targets you want to simply incapacitate, you need to lower the power. If that had been against a person, it would have broken every bone in his body. But still...a hell of a push for a first timer."

"But how do I control it?"

"Your best bet is to simply practice. I'll set up a dummy target for you tomorrow. Get some rest, and no, this does not mean I will stop randomly attacking you when you least expect it."

"I understand," the Rookie said, bowing.

Valia nodded and walked back up the hill, clutching her jaw. "Girl has a mean right hook too," she mumbled to herself.

The Rookie was woken up early in the morning by Mical.

"Miss, it's time to get up."

"What is it? When do the drills start?"

"Not for another hour. Valia has set up your target. She doesn't want to be kept waiting."

The Rookie nodded and got out of her sleeping bag, shaking the bugs that got on her during the night due to being forced to sleep outside. Mical led her to an open clearing on the left of Syatoris's mansion where Valia was waiting with what appeared to be a VERY ticked Atton covered in sand bags and protective gear.

"Tell me again why I'm doing this," Atton complained when the Rookie got within earshot, the blast shield over his helmet obscuring his vision.

"Because Valia threatened to hit you in the ribs with her elbow," Mical reminded him in casual fashion, as though such threats were as common as paperwork. With Valia, they often were.

"I thought you said you were going to set up a dummy target," the Rookie questioned, eyebrows raised.

"I have set up a target. What, you don't think he's a dummy?" Valia asked, grinning.

"Hey!" Atton protested.

"She's just getting her knocks in, Atton. After all, you still agreed to this. You could have just taken the hit to the ribs," Mical suggested, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, Blondie."

"Okay, Rookie, like before. Concentrate."

Atton decided to get his teasing in while he could. "You can't hit me. I bet you couldn't hit the broad side of a star-"

Atton was thrown back as the Rookie managed to cause another Force burst. He lay on the ground, immobile from the heavy gear protecting him, coughing.

"That hurt," Atton managed.

Valia helped him up. She glanced at the Rookie.

"Again," she ordered.

The Rookie had the eagerness of a child getting a sweet as she Force pushed Atton again, this time trying her best to lower the power of the push.

"It hurts everywhere," Atton complained as the protective gear was removed inside the mansion. "I feel like I've been hit by a speeder. Twice." He sat down on a hard wooden bench, as polished as the wood floor was. Mical followed behind with a large black bag.

"It comes with the training. You'll get used to it," Mical replied with clinical distance as he injected something to kill the pain into Atton's arm.

"I'll get used to feeling like my bones want to crawl into a hole and die? No thanks!"

"Look on the bright side, at least it isn't Sith training. You really would want to die after that."

"And what would you know about-wait, I almost forgot. You use lightning,"

"A holdover from my youth," Mical clarified. "Father taught me all sorts of things."

"And who was your father?" Atton asked, trying to distract himself from the bruises as he gazed around the lavish interior of Shishida's home.

"Darth Cratus. My mother was Darth Hamarchius. In their day job they were Jon and Marta Hord," Mical answered casually as he wrapped Atton's arm in Kolto bandage.

"Day job? What does a Sith Lord consider a day job?" Atton asked, bemused.

For Father, it was bank accounting and economic speculation. He got filthy rich that way. For Mother it was a job teaching ethics at the local college on Coruscant."

"You're kidding. A Sith teaching ethics?" Atton asked, incredulous.

"Well, they weren't traditional Sith. They were Sith Philosophers. For the kind of people who don't get a kick out of being barbarians every day."

"So, what does a Sith Philosopher do? Sit around and ask whether their lightsaber exists or not?" Atton joked.

"If only," Mical replied, applying another kolto patch to a bruise on Atton's neck. "There, you should be alright. Want me to leave you some painkillers?"

"Nah. Gotta keep some of the pain around, or I won't be ready to deal with it in the real world."

"Very well, then. I shall be on my way. Valia said you could take the day off while she runs the others ragged."

"How nice of her," Atton replied sarcastically.

"That's all for today. Get some rest. Maybe we'll do this again, depending on how I feel tomorrow," Valia said approvingly.

The group tried to stifle a groan. Every inch of their bodies ached from the beating Valia had given them in hand to hand instruction; Bastila had gotten the worst of it, though. She was still trying to stop the blood coming out of her nose. Visas seemed to finally be getting the hang of the training and had kept up much better than she usually did, having successfully countered three of Valia's arm locks before Valia had laid her flat on the ground. The Rookie had done something most thought impossible, countering nine of Valia's attempts to get her in a chokehold and even sweeping her legs out from under her. It had stunned the crew. Even Valia looked a little surprised, but nodded.

Bao-Dur had also begun to show some skill. His tactics were...unusual to say the least. His habit of speaking some very odd things had distracted Valia just enough for him to get a blow in at her stomach. Sure, it hadn't fazed Valia a bit and she had knocked him to the ground soon after, but then again, Bao-Dur didn't seem fazed either. (He would later quip that he had "Received a knockdown bonus.")

After Mical had treated their wounds, he, Valia, and Kreia left to the mansion for the night and once again, the crew found themselves alone once more.

Bastila grabbed her sleeping bag and went somewhere isolated where she could think in peace.

_Bad day, Bassie? _The Revan in her asked.

"Not now, Revan. I'm trying to meditate."

_You always meditate._

"Would it kill you to shut up for once?"

_Oh. We're back to 'that' stage in our friendship, eh?_

"One more word, Revan, and I'm going to find some sort of high pressure water hose and fire it into my ear. I won't care if it washes you out or not."

_Bassie, we both know how the whole 'Get this spirit out of my body' thing goes. I'm stuck until we find some way to get to my old body._

"Something you never cease to remind me about."

_Awww, poor little Bassie doesn't like the fact she didn't know what she was doing when we got bonded._

"Shut up."

_Okay, okay, I've had my fun. By the way, you really should try and convince Valia to head to Dxun when she has the time._

"What is on Dxun?"

_That's the place the other me told Canderous to go to if he and the others ever needed a place to lie low_.

"Speaking of Valia...what are your thoughts on her so far?"

The Revan in her went silent for a moment before replying.

_I...I don't know. She's done so much. I'm trying to look for signs she is sincere, but so far, I don't feel if she's really changed all that much. I'm going to need more time. See where she goes._

"This had better go somewhere fast. I don't want the stares from the crew if they realize I'm talking to myself."

"A little late for that," said a familiar, soft-spoken voice.

Bastila wheeled around to find Bao-Dur staring at her with an empty smile.

Busted.

"How long have you been there?" Bastila asked.

"Eh, about a minute."

"Uh, listen, Bao-Dur...I...know what I was doing seemed a bit odd. I have...issues."

"Join the club and then whack a small animal with said club," Bao-Dur replied.

"What were you coming over here for?"

"I need a reason?"

"Well...yes."

"Funny, I seem to have misplaced my reason. Heh, double joke."

"So...you just came over here...just because?"

"Pretty much."

"And after that?"

"Uh...stare at you and make heavy breathing noises."

"Why?"

"I need a reason?"

Bastila rubbed the bridge of her nose. This was going nowhere. But at least she had nothing to worry about. If Bao-Dur could even guess what was going on with her, it wasn't likely he cared.

"Have you ever been to a puppet show?" he asked.

She looked up. "What?"

"Have you ever been to a puppet show?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"We're all attached to strings. We're yanked around. That's why I ask."

Bastila had reached her limits. No more psycho-babble.

"No...Listen, Bao-Dur, how about you...forget it, just get away from me..." she replied, annoyed.

"That has got to be about the thousandth time somebody has said that to me. If I had a credit for every time, though, it would only be five credits, due to inflation," Bao-Dur replied, walking back to his sleeping bag.

The next day, there were no drills. Valia had finally decided to cut them some slack. She had however, pulled Bao-Dur aside, leading him into one of the mansion's libraries where there was a gaunt looking Nosferan male with a long nose and a slightly hunched figure. His eyes were red, like all Nosferans, and his hair was shaved to stubble on his head. His double chin jutted out from under his mouth and his short stature was covered by loose fitting black robes.

"Bao-Dur, this is an old buddy of mine, Niska. Used to play together. He's a psychologist in these parts. I kinda called in a favor to have you examined," Valia explained.

"Oh, a head doctor. So, doc, how many sandwiches am I short of for a picnic? I can whip some more up in a hurry!"

"Close your eyes," Niska said in a rough, scratchy tone that seemed out of place. He put two fingers on the Zabrak's forehead and closed his eyes also. After a few minutes Niska opened them.

"That...has got to be the most unusual mental disturbance I've ever seen. Trying to get through it was almost too much," Niska said, his eyebrows raised.

"What's wrong with him?"

"It seems like a dissociative disorder, but there are strong delusional traits embedded into it. Someone has altered his mind to the extant he thinks the whole galaxy is just some kind of game or story. He thinks he is being watched or read about."

"How dangerous is he?"

"That is the thing. Someone has altered his mind severely, but somehow managed to avoid altering it to the point the underlying sane responses buried in his brain won't kick in for everyday situations. He'll still be functional, but don't expect him to make any sense."

"You said it was hard sifting through his mind. Why?"

"That's another odd thing. Normally, a mind this messed up is usually a drooling wreck. But think of his as a ball of glued together shattered glass. When light goes through a clear, unbroken window, it goes through without any hassle. But when light shines on a heap of glass-"

"It scatters," Valia finished. "Why would someone make him like that? What's the point?"

"Indeed. Here's the oddest part. This state of mind is under some kind of 'timer' before it resets to an unbroken state."

"When is he supposed to go back to normal?"

"I'd venture to say, seven, eight years from now. Like I said, strangest disturbance ever."

"Well, what the hell are we supposed to do with him?"

"Under normal circumstances, I would suggest handing him over to our finest doctors and say good bye to him for a few years while we try and get his head straight. But given the fact that he is still able to make sane decisions somehow, and is still able to distinguish right from wrong to a degree...wait, what am I saying? You should give him to us so we can help him," Niska affirmed.

"Sorry doc, can't do that," Bao-Dur affirmed. "I gotta stick with the General until the time is right."

"Until the time is right?" Valia asked. "And exactly when will that be?"

"Hell, I don't know. Do I look like I know what I'm doing?" he asked rhetorically.

Valia sighed. "Go get some air. I'll talk to you later, Bao-Dur. Thanks again, Niska."

"Always a pleasure, Ju-I mean, Valia," Niska replied before leaving the library. "Mind what I said. He really does need help."

"So he's only cuckoo in a non-threatening sort of way?" Shishida asked as she blew some bubbles away from her face, swishing around gently in the hot bathwater.

Valia rested on the small leather recliner as she took in Shishida's room. It had changed considerably from the untidy mess it had been when they were both kids, with Syatoris regularly reminding her to clean it up. They had used to spend hours drawing whatever they fancied and used to stick the pictures up on the wall for the really good ones. Now it had stacks of untidy music holodisks lying around and a single ink painting of a crane that Valia had made as a child hung prominently from the ceiling in such a way that Shishida could admire it lying down. She had painted it while it had been looking after its eggs. Shishida's blue catsuit lay discarded carelessly on the floor like a good portion of her other things, which served to make the whole room more cluttered than it needed to be.

Still, it had been years since Valia had felt this at home anywhere. She straightened out her loose red robe and turned her head towards Shishida, who had been blowing copious amounts of soap suds off her hand.

"Yeah. I still can't figure out why his mother would go to all that trouble," Valia answered, yawing. It was night time. She would have to start a live fire exercise with her team and she had to get some rest. Still, catching up with her childhood pal was proving to be an excellent way to de-stress.

"Maybe he's meant to complete some task," Shishida thought aloud. "But what kind of task could he complete that was so dangerous he couldn't go through it sane?"

"Well, his mother is a Jedi Prophet, so maybe we have to take him with us to find out," Valia suggested.

Shishida turned to Valia. "You sure that's a good idea?"

"Any worse than dragging a Sith in the form of an ugly hag?"

Shishida shrugged. "Point taken," she chirped.

The pair started to relax, Valia dozed off a bit, while Shishida quietly got out of the bath and dried herself, retrieving another blue silk robe and undergarments from a large brown dresser in one corner of the room.

Slipping it on, Shishida's eyes fell back on Valia dozing fitfully in the recliner.

Even now, it was still a shock at how much her friend had changed. She had used to be quite a friendly, warm hearted girl.

And then those damn instructors came and turned her into a weapon. Shishida was all for martial arts-they looked cool and were pretty damn effective. But the extant those old men of Tython went to was ridiculous. She had been a damaged girl from the moment they had deemed her training ended.

But still there was hope. Shishida might have even managed to nurse Valia back to a humanized state if she could just get some time with her.

But war kept interfering. It always war, and always over the same thing-creed. Why couldn't Force Sensitives give up trying to change the galaxy and grab themselves a glass of wine and kick back like she did? It wasn't that hard!

And look what it had done to her poor friend. The best years of her life burned away in one senseless slaughter after another.

As Shishida's eyes ran over the terrible scars that were underneath the sleeves of her robe, Shishida blinked back some moisture forming.

And what was there for 'Valia' after this conflict? Was there hope? Would she ever allow her real name to be spoken out loud again?

Shishida didn't like questions. Usually when she asked questions, she didn't like the answers. It cut down on her fun.

Shishida went over and sat on the arm of the recliner. Ever so lightly, she laid a hand on Valia's head.

Valia reacted instantly, grabbing it and pulling Shishida closer into a chokehold.

When Valia realized it was Shishida, she let go, horrified at what she had nearly done.

"I...I didn't mean to..." Valia trailed off. Suddenly she got up as Shishida was massaging her neck, heading for the sliding door.

"Wait!" Shishida gasped, catching Valia by the sleeve and pulling her back to her.

Valia turned around, guilt, and shame written clearly on her face.

"It...it was reflex," Valia said. "I don't sleep right...when someone tries to touch me...I..."

"It's okay, it was an accident!" Shishida protested.

"That doesn't make it right!" Valia nearly snarled. "I should be better than this; I should learn to react like a human, not some pistol with a hair trigger!"

Valia pulled away. "It...Always feels like that, you know. Like I'm always a hairsbreadth away from violence. And...and every time I do something violent it hurts and I have to ignore it but it never goes away! It just stays there...a hole...a wound..."

And then, to Shishida's shock, he friend did something she had never seen her do.

Valia started to cry. Uncontrollably. Shishida's arms were around her friend instantly, cradling her head as Valia wept onto her shoulder.

"It'll be okay..." Shishida whispered.

"No it won't!" Valia protested, "Everybody else gets to go on but me. I'm used up and I'm going to die like some heathen...alone. Forgotten."

"That isn't true, Jubei!" Shishida replied, pulling her friend to eye level. "That isn't true. What you're doing now will be remembered for ages to come! Ages! You have...I don't know if I should call it time or destiny...but it hasn't run out or you haven't fulfilled it! And even if you're forgotten by everybody else, I WON'T be among them!"

Valia looked up at her. For just a split second, Shishida could swear she saw some spark of the person she used to be in her remaining eye.

Slowly, Valia calmed herself, drying her eye. She took a few deep breaths and Shishida saw the armor come back on. It was unlikely Valia would ever cry in front of anybody ever again.

"Thanks for talking me down. Four years of therapy and you'd think I'd be better at dealing with what is happening," Valia said in typically gruff fashion. "I...get some rest, I'll see you tomorrow." Valia started to walk out of the room.

Shishida pulled Valia back to her again and hugged her tightly, refusing to let go.


	24. Darth Kashtu

Sith Philosopher Base, 19 years ago...

"Wake up, dear."

Atris snapped awake, bound to a durasteel chair with rope. The Sith Lord Thrasyllus stood over her. The room they were in was all white, with only one white door leading out.

"My my, it has been a long time, Atris. You've grown a couple of inches since last we met."

"What-?" Atris asked.

Darth Thrasyllus leaned down, her bone white mask close to Atris' face. "Not yet. Not until you are ready."

"Ready for what?"

"To accept the fact that the Jedi teachings are flawed."

With a chill, Atris realized what was going on.

Darth Thrasyllus was going to try and turn her.

"I won't betray the Jedi, no matter how much pain you inflict."

"I do not torture, Atris. It is beneath me."

"Nothing is too low for a Sith."

"Have they told you nothing of the Sith Philosophers?" Thrasyllus asked, obviously angered.

"All I need to know about them is described in the name. You're Sith who make just a slightly bigger effort at justifying your many atrocities."

"Jedi indoctrination. They tell you nothing to keep you ignorant of our true aims."

"Let me guess what those are. Enslaving the galaxy, murdering every Jedi who crosses you in the name of some defunct empire you like to keep resurrecting to death?"

"No. We do not wish to enslave the galaxy. We don't have the numbers. Our goals are more...cerebral than that. We do not seek the overthrow of the Republic. Merely an end to its corruption. An end to their exploitative practices with Force Users. We want a Republic guided by us. While we admit we have killed Jedi who do not join us, that is only a necessary evil. We want to replace the Jedi Order."

Atris looked at her as though she were crazy. "You cannot be serious. The Senate would never go along with it."

"Think, dear. Just why is that? Why does the Senate consistently refuse to condemn Jedi screwups?"

"The Jedi act for the good of the Galaxy."

Thrasyllus paused. "Ah, simplicities. You always did like those."

"You don't know me," Atris snapped.

"That so?" Thrasyllus mocked. She pulled out a small remote and clicked a button on it.

The whole room darkened except for a smooth wall on the right, which glowed brightly as a hidden holoprojector played in the background.

Atris' eyes went wide as she began seeing images of herself with friends and Masters she had trained under over the years on both Coruscant and Dantooine. Images of Atris training, feeds of her being lectured by Master Vrook for that one time she had cracked a joke about the Jedi Code, and most disturbingly, images of her going on assignments with Master Vandar, clearly in a manner to suggest she was being followed.

"You've been spying on me?" Atris asked, horrified.

"Spying is such an ugly word, Atris. I prefer to term it 'keeping track of my investment'."

"Investment?"

"Of course. I trained you. Tried to make you what you were meant to be, but Vandar sabotaged my attempts."

"I've had many Masters over the years. And all of them would never do this," Atris stammered, trying to ignore the chill going up her back.

"You don't know your teachers as well as you think," Thrasyllus retorted. "Interesting how many of your masters just _happened _to be female, isn't it? I can't tell you how difficult it was to ensure that, in preparation for exactly this day. Even if Lord Ptolemus had not commanded your abduction I would have made it a point to track you down later."

"I'll never join you," Atris affirmed.

"You already have, dear. You remind me a great deal of myself at your age." Thrasyllus leaned closer. "You have anger, yet you do not use it. It builds up in you until some days you feel like you could just explode on someone, don't you? All thanks to your father throwing you away to the Jedi."

The remark hit home. "I have-problems, that's all."

"Only because the Jedi won't allow you to work through them. Last year on Coruscant, you violently assaulted a thug in an alleyway with a knife when you saw him trying to rob a woman and her small daughter. The doctors had to operate to save his life."

"I never told anybody about that," Atris almost whispered.

"The year before that, you got into a shouting match with a Padawan who accused you of cheating on a test. You took a swing and ended up giving him a concussion.

"I-I regretted what I did. I passed him some notes on a future test, let him beat me in training."

"He only accepted your conciliatory gestures because he was afraid of you," Thrasyllus added. "The rage will only get worse Atris, unless you train yourself to master it. Bottling your emotions over your familial issues will only hurt you in the long run...exactly the thing the Jedi are asking you to do. But with us, you will be free to accept every aspect of yourself, dark or otherwise. You won't have to recite the Code in your head every time you feel what makes the rest of us alive."

"Who are you?" Atris again asked in a whisper.

Thrasyllus chuckled. "Why? Are you going to tell? And taint yourself in the eyes of the rest of your peers forever? No Master would ever take you."

Atris didn't reply. She tried to look away, only for Thrasyllus to grasp her by the chin and turn her head back to her.

"Your future lies with me, dear. Join me, and I will complete your training, as I should have all those years ago."

"For argument sake, why would I even WANT to join? We all know how the Sith wars goes. It seems like you'll win, only to be undone by some stupid mistake you made or underestimating your enemy. I may not actually like sitting behind a desk looking for information, but I don't need to be an archivist to know it ends badly for the Sith every time. And it ALWAYS ends badly for them. I mean, how many more times do you maniacs have to fail before you realize you just can't rule? Naga Sadow, Exar Kun, they all blew it in the end. What makes you any different? The costumes? The creep factor?" Atris asked, bitter sarcasm lending a hardened edge to her voice.

"It is the fact that we have always been on the same side as the Jedi: We want peace, we want order. We just...approach it differently. We don't hinder ourselves with our code, like the Jedi do. And, unlike the Jedi, we want to use the Force on a more practical end to make life better for everyone. Imagine it, Atris, a Republic where knowledge of the Force is available to everyone, not just the hoarded by the Jedi or the Sith as we kill each other over and over."

"Madness. It will never work. Ordinary people are too irresponsible."

"And we aren't?" Thrasyllus pressed. "The Jedi have been saying that garbage for years, and consistently have failed to prove it. How many Jedi have fallen when they decided they liked to stick their hand in the cookie jar just a LITTLE too much, Atris? You know why they go that route? It is because inherently the flaw of Jedi teachings is that it does not acknowledge how screwed up things really are outside the temple. They snatch people as babies and indoctrinate them into ignoring the facets in themselves that are in the very people they are supposed to protect. The Code does not help them deal with pain and loss, or fear, and only a small percentage actually have the gumption to get past all of that. The rest are only fooling themselves, like you."

"You're wrong. The reason Jedi do things this way is because we have to. You Sith are testament to what can happen when you rely on your emotions. You may like to say all the evil in the galaxy of us, but in the end, who has more staying power? We must be doing SOMETHING right if we can survive multiple attempts to destroy us repeatedly. And you are forgetting that when it comes to blows, we always edge out ahead of you in the end. And you know how we do all that, Sith? It's because we keep cooler heads. I mean, look at you people. You guys fly off the handle at failures, or setbacks, and that vaunted anger you talk about? It has been used so often against you that it has become almost a running joke in some circles."

"True, many Sith don't know how to control themselves when they get a taste of freedom. But how many Sith were once Jedi? Jedi who tried to deny themselves everything under the sun to keep to some sanctimonious, holier-than-thou ideal? The Jedi Order is actively responsible for the extremist views of the Sith. Every action you take serves to alienate other Force-Sensitives who do not believe as you do," Thrasyllus replied contemptuously. "I used to believe in the code with all my being, Atris. I really did. But then I saw the truth of things. A truth Jedi don't like to admit to themselves about their order and the Republic," Thrasyllus spoke, leaning down to stare at Atris again.

"And just what tangent are you going to go on with now, I wonder?"

"Remember when I asked you why the Republic, even after the Jedi have failed to control their members so many times, still allows the Jedi a free pass?"

"Yes."

"Think! What is the most politically valuable thing about the Jedi?"

"They preserve the peace and uphold the law of the Republic," Atris said, getting a bad feeling that Thrasyllus had trapped her.

Thrasyllus did not disappoint. "The reason the Republic allows the Jedi Order so much leeway is that they are a tool of fear. The only reason the Republic allows the Jedi Order to continue at all is because as long as they do so, the government will always have a resource of what is basically a super soldier on the battlefield. All the Jedi have ever been valued for is their abilities in combat."

"You have a sick way of looking at things."

"Do I? If that is so, dear, than why is it even after twenty thousand years of working for this wretched system, slavery is still in full swing? Why is drug trafficking virtually unopposed in the Core? Why are the Jedi used in nearly every trade negotiation that somehow ends up favoring the Republic in the end? Why are Jedi constantly used in guerilla warfare operations against unallied star systems? And why is it that Jedi are virtually barred from the really serious wartime negotiations? It is because your own Republic never really took your mission of peace seriously. You're just...a tool to them," Thrasyllus replied, pacing around her.

"That isn't true! You're twisting things! You Sith always do! The Republic values us!" Atris was agitated now, and for the life of her could not figure out why.

"And what if it decides it doesn't want you anymore? I mean, a great deal of Jedi have fallen over the years. That must be getting tiresome for them. One day, another Jedi will go bad and set the Galaxy ablaze. And that will be the final straw. They will outlaw the Order. But we can stop that. Join us. Help us integrate the Jedi into our ranks. Help us put an end to the exploitation," Thrasyllus asked, stroking Atris' face gently.

"You're mad. I will not turn," Atris replied, yanking away from the Sith's touch.

"Even if I was someone you knew very well?"

"I don't believe you. You're lying," Atris shot back nastily, desperately trying to ignore the sinking feeling in her chest, that terrible dread that the person behind that hideous white mask could be someone she knew very well.

"Now it is my turn to disbelieve you. You know who I am. You knew the instant you encountered me in the Enclave."

"No I don't!" Atris said defensively, trying to ignore the taunting voice in the back of her mind that whispered the tragic knowledge.

"Search your feelings, Atris."

"No! I won't listen. You're playing games. You have to be." Atris was trying not to cry, but it was difficult to keep the water in her eyes. The terrible knowledge given to her by the Force twisted in her heart like a knife. Despair made her feel heavy. The room seemingly closing in on her.

Thrasyllus paused a moment, then snapped her fingers.

"We will continue this later, Atris. You are obviously in a bit of a fragile state. I won't press it."

A masked Sith bodyguard in short black robes entered, hand on his lightsaber. With a flick of her hand, Thrasyllus undid the knots on the ropes binding Atris.

"I have arranged for quarters for you during the duration of your stay here. If you need anything, ask the bodyguard. Mind you though, escape will be impossible. See you tomorrow," Thrasyllus finished as the bodyguard took Atris by the arm and started to place restraints on the young Echani.

Atris panicked. What would Valia do?

Atris wheeled around and head butted the guard, sprinting for the exit.

The bodyguard reached for his blaster. Thrasyllus shouted for him to stop but it was too late. He fired.

Atris felt the bolt of deadly red light heading for her back. She wouldn't reach the exit before it hit her spine.

She spun haphazardly, clumsily holding out her hand.

The bolt hit the hand-and then bounced away as Atris deflected it with Force energy. She had never done that before and it left her with first degree burns on her hand. She collapsed in pain, yelping.

The bodyguard had fared worse. The bolt had hit him dead center in the forehead. His brains now slid against a wall behind him.

When Atris saw it, she started crying. She wanted to vomit. Her first kill, and it had been an accident. A horrible, horrible accident.

"Are you alright, Dear?"

"What have I done?" she whispered in shock.

"The fool got what he deserved. I had forbidden you to be harmed. He obviously didn't get the memo."

"He didn't deserve that! No one does! And it's all because you brought me here!"

"You preserved your life. There is no reason to feel guilty for that. You should be proud. You were fulfilling your Jedi duty."

"Not like this..." Atris whimpered. She started sobbing harder, unable to stop.

Thrasyllus approached her. She lay a hand on Atris' forehead.

"Sleep, child."

Atris swooned, eyes fluttering as she fell to the floor, inert.

The Sith security team rushed in seconds later.

"Thanks for the timely arrival. Get her to her qaurters and treat her wound. And if any further harm comes to Atris that pile of meat over there won't be the only one getting buried," Thrasyllus commanded, gesturing to the dead Sith not four feet away.

The robed Sith all nodded and picked Atris up gently, carrying her out.

Thrasyllus looked at the dead Sith.

"You just had to screw things up, didn't you?"

Darth Hippocratus whistled as he used a hypo to remove a sample of Valia's blood from her arm. They had been in the surgical theater for the past hour now, and Valia had been having all sorts of tests done on her.

"I trust that didn't hurt, young one?" he asked her.

Valia didn't respond. She only glared.

Hippocratus sighed. "You know, child you really should start taking this all in stride. You wouldn't have fit in with the Jedi anyway. And once Darth Kashtu is restored to her rightful place in our order, you'll understand why you should help us."

"I wonder, Sith, how do you wanna die? Would you like me to use one of your scalpels on you or would prefer being strangled?"

"Your temper is...disconcerting for one so young. But I suppose I should not be surprised. After all, you are still a manipulation," he replied clinically.

"What do you mean?"

"You may be genetically perfect, but there are just some things that we never managed to get right, for example, there is a rather interesting side-effect with your type."

"Such as?"

"Oh come now, surely you've noticed. The rage, for one. At times it can almost consume you, right? Your emotions are almost always off kilter, and you can become quite attached to someone after having only known them a short while, am I right?"

Valia wanted to rebuke him, saying he didn't know what he was talking about, but something stirred the disquiet in her.

"Your emotions are probably very easily provoked to extremes. When you love someone, you love them intensely, almost to the point that the thought of being without them is physically painful. On the other hand, when you hate someone, there is no limit to what you will go through in order to destroy them. Am I getting warmer?" he pressed.

Valia's chest tightened in pain as she remembered her stepmother's death...at her own hands.

"I can see the pain in your eye, girl. You know exactly what I am talking about. That is why you need our help. The Jedi won't be able to help you through what could potentially be crippling emotional problems. We have experience. With our help, you'll be able to reach a relatively stable mental state. Sure, you might be able to dodge the problem for a while on your own, but it will continue to rear its ugly head. Until eventually your ability to rage or your ability to love, perhaps both culminate in something you can't take back."

"You don't know me, Sith. Don't pretend to."

At that moment, Dath Ptolemus entered the theater. There was an excitement to his walk.

"It is time. Bring the girl to the chamber," Ptolemus ordered. He turned to Valia.

"Today is a most fortunate day, Milady. If you have never met Kashtu before, you are in for a treat."

"You said she was dead."

"That's what we all thought after her last tussle with Jolee Bindo on Rhen Vhar. Still can't believe he collapsed the whole hideout with a Force pulse," Ptolemus remarked. "We spent years looking for a viable sample for which to recreate her. All of them had been somehow corrupted, rendered unusable. Probably Bron-Son's fault. But I knew that she had managed to create a masterpiece, some lost work, that was to be stored until just this day, this time," he remarked eagerly. "Escort Milady to the ritual chamber."

Hippocratus nodded and undid the lock on the gurney's wheels, Valia still an unwilling passenger.

There was a number of masked Sith that lined the exit from the theater, all staring, all whispering amongst themselves. Valia made a point to scowl at them. "You're all dead, you hear me? DEAD!" she shouted.

"Milady is in rare form today," Ptolemus joked.

The pair led her past the rows of laboratories, past the armories, and past the training rooms. She thought she heard the crying of babies in the distance. The interior of the place must be massive. It must have taken years to fully assemble. Might have been a factory at one point. And almost everywhere she looked, whether it was the holding cells containing strange, misshapen people lining the wall, or the nearby kitchens, there were Sith everywhere. It was also dark in the facility. People must be used to the low light. It would be difficult to escape from.

They turned down another, hall, this one sterile and white, just like the theater. A completely hooded figure with a saber-lance stood at attention in front of a large door. The face could not be seen in the hood's darkness, and no light seemed to shine through. The saber lance was a magnificent work of art-seeming composed of a somewhat twisted wood branch that had white orchids growing all along its length. The man's black robe was standard and unassuming, unlike his weapon.

"Xahn! Is everything ready?" Hippocratus asked.

"Indeed, Father. It has been prepared for over half an hour," the hooded man replied with a grave, yet oily tone. "Lord Socratus awaits the orders."

"Good. You are relieved. You may watch, however, if it would please you."

"Thank you. I would very much like to," Xahn replied.

Valia tried to get a glimpse of the young man under the hood, but her eye was unable to penetrate the darkness concealing his face. He stood aside and the door unlocked and slid open, Hippocratus and Ptolemus pushing her makeshift prison into the room beyond.

The first thing that hit Valia was the wave of negative Force energy bouncing around in the chamber. It buzzed and hummed in the air, sending a cold chill into her bones. The chamber itself was covered in a black, obsidian-like material that swallowed whatever light touched it. It seemed to move around in the corner of Valia's eye.

The floor and the walls were covered in blood colored runes, three interloping circles, each being progressively smaller and star patterns drawn in an extremely precise triangle pattern with a set of bright red stones in the center, giving off steam of some kind. In the outermost circle were seven Sith. All but one of them were masked.

It was the one that was unmasked that shocked Valia.

"Traitor! I'll have your head for this!" Valia snarled.

Arren Kae looked up, her eyes now black with gold irises in the middle. She wore a large, floor length black tunic that did not cover her shoulders. A number of black tattoos crossed her neck, with the same rune patterns as the floor.

But the voice was not hers. It was a man's. It was an old man's voice, one that seemed to seep authority and wisdom whenever it spoke, and still had some huskiness to it. The personality behind the face seemed to make the features colder and yet somehow more mesmerizing.

"Pardon? Whatever are you talking about?" She asked-or was it a he?

"Lord Socratus, if I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times to keep your mask on. It confuses people, and I'm not just talking about the face," Ptolemus lectured.

"It isn't as though it matters. Why should I have to wear such a thing when this is a perfectly suitable disguise?"

"It is for safety. Security."

"I wore a mask for years. Why isn't a clone body as good as a regular mask?" Darth Socratus asked, flicking strands of his clone body's white hair away from his-her-face.

"Never mind. Let's just get this over with," Ptolemus grumbled.

"Ah, and this is the girl?" Darth Socratus asked, approaching Valia. "May I get a look at her?"

Hippocratus stopped him-her-before his hand could reach Valia's face.

"If you want to keep your new body's fingers, don't get near her mouth," Hippocratus warned him.

"A feisty little one, I take it?" Socratus asked. "Shall I just resort to verbal introductions then?"

"That would be best."

"I see. Well then, young creation, I suppose you have many questions. I will endeavor to answer them. All knowledge arises from the asking. The questing of it," Socratus replied, turning back to Valia.

"You seem to have a couple of extra parts under the hood, there," Valia remarked dryly. "What, you like to look at yourself in the mirror naked, or something?" But despite her dry remarks, Valia was still deeply unsettled by the presence she felt within this body. It was extremely old and ancient.

"One of the benefits, I suppose. Not that I would know. Not that vain. But you certainly bring up a good point there," Socratus laughed. "I have this body for convenience purposes. Arren Kae is about as close to a perfect Force Sensitive body as one can come by through natural means. She has yet to realize how valuable she is to science. Ptolemus did me a favor while I was still trapped in my holocron by stealing some of her red blood cells for me about two months back," Socratus answered.

"Your presence is...ancient. Surely the Sith Philosophers cannot be that old."

"No, but the ideal was. This order was formed after Kashtu went on the run from the Jedi. She encountered my ghost, trapped in my holocron, sealed away in my castle on Korriban. I initiated her into the Sith and imparted some of my theories to her. A good student...and a good friend. You have your mothers eyes...er, eye."

"So you were her master, eh?"

"Yes. Oh, she was hesitant at first, but her first attempt at creating the perfect Force Sensitive, Dimmak, filled her with a sort of motherly affection for the creature, despite his VERY obvious shortcomings. The Jedi took her child away to be trained as a weapon, which was the final straw. We got along a great deal better afterward. All I did was offer her an out, as I do today," he answered casually. "You are certainly a great deal different from your mother."

"Kashtu isn't my mother."

"Do not lie to yourself. We all see the family resemblance. All you need do is age yourself a few years and you'll be the spitting image of her. Hell, you even have the badass eye patch on the same side!" Socratus exclaimed. "But enough talk. She can explain all this to you herself. The holocron, if you please, Lord Ptolemus."

Ptolemus removed a small red, pyramid shaped holocron from a place within his robes. It pulsated softly as it passed by Valia.

Valia felt her heart leap into her throat for some reason and did not understand why.

"This holocron contains the preserved brain patterns of Kashtu before her defeat on Rhen Vhar. It will now serve as a starting point. Lord Hippocratus! The blood, if you will."

Hippocratus removed a vial of Valia's blood and eagerly handed it over.

"Standard cloning techniques simply will not suffice. If we want her back now, and in condition to lead, we must use the power of the Dark Side at full strength. All must kneel and chant with me." With that, Socratus kneele in the innermost circle and began chanting in some strange language Valia had never heard before.

Strangely, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted that Xahn fellow, leaning against the wall of the chamber, his fists clenched tight, seemingly in anger.

_Strange. Very Strange. Perhaps not everyone is excited at the thought of this woman being brought back,_ Valia mused.

The negative energy that was present in the room amped up to terrible degrees of power that made every hair on her body stand up. Socratus removed the stopper on the vial and poured the blood onto the fiercely glowing red stones, now showing a bright light in the interior. The stones pulsed with light.

Red electrical arcs started jumping across the room, and a wind that should not have been there seemingly whipped into existence, blowing Valia's hair back.

Socratus levitated the Holocron with the Force, veins on his-her-neck bulging. The device floated over the stones, now releasing a bloody red steam.

An arc of carmine energy leapt from the holocron and hovered over the steam, while the holocron became inert and lifeless, its power drained. It flew into Hippocratus' hands.

The red lightning hit the glowing pink ball of light and red steam, and the ball began to twist and reshape itself into a humanoid form as the chanting in the room grew louder. Valia's heart began pounding out of some nameless dread.

The runes began to glow on the floor and the chanting grew louder, the lighting more intense. The wind in the room whipped about maddeningly until finally, with a shout, Socratus clapped his hands onto the runes he kneeled over.

The explosion threw everybody backward, including Valia, who winced as the negative energy passed through her as her gurney fell over. Hippocratus got to his feat and righted her.

There was smoke in the room. As Valia's vision cleared up, she spotted a moving, naked figure writhing on the floor. A figure with jet black, shoulder length hair.

Ptolemus immediately went over, and removed his black robe, covering her in it, and helped her up.

"Madame! It is good to see you again!"

"Where...am I?" the woman asked, her voice having a husky tone similar to Valia's, though there was an air of maturity to it Valia would not match for some time. It was a voice that also gave Valia chills, as it sounded strikingly similar to her stepmother's. Her face and body seemed to be an extrapolation of what Valia would probably look like in a few years. The chin, the skin tone, the shape of the nose, everything was the same.

"A base on Dantooine. Come, you need to rest. Is there anything you would like?"

"Rice...and tea..." Darth Kashtu replied, massaging the throbbing headache. She spotted Valia, who wasted no time in glaring at her, her viridian eye never blinking as Kashtu stared back with a viridian gaze of her own.

"I've obviously missed a great many things. No matter. I need to know what is going on. I'll need to use your studies for now, Ptolemus."

"Of course, Madame," Ptolemus bowed.

"Where's Socratus?" Kashtu asked.

"Over here, student. Welcome back," Socratus replied, coughing as he got up, helping the other Sith to their feet.

Kashtu nodded before turning back to Valia.

She approached, her movement's mercurial in nature. Valia started studying the posture only to find that there was absolutely no flaw to it, no inherent imbalance she could exploit. The woman's movement was perfect. And that voice was starting to get to her. Kashtu approached and ran the back of her hand against Valia's eyepatch. Valia raised an eyebrow at the immense power she felt from the woman.

"I see the family curse is alive and well," she said. "Tell me, when did I make you? I don't remember initiating any projects like yours before-"

"You'll get nothing from her, Madame. Milady has proven unusually reticent for a child," Ptolemus interrupted. "Like you said, you have missed a great many things."

"I see. So be it. Prepare quarters for her, see to it she is kept fed. I will question her later. And is it really necessary to keep her in restraints like that?"

"She will try to kill everyone in the room if she is released," Ptolemus answered matter-of-factly.

"Indeed? Interesting." Kashtu stole one more glance at Valia before exiting the chamber.

"Xahn, escort her to quarters 503 in the east section. Look after her until I summon you," Hippocratus ordered.

"As you wish," Xahn replied. He took control of Valia's gurney, and led her out of the chamber.

As he led her out of the ritual area, Valia saw that all the Sith in the area were celebrating, cheering at the return of their long dead master. Xahn seemingly did not care about the festivities and wheeled her off to the quarter's area she had been assigned to. Passing under dim lights and yet more power cables he had to carefully navigate with, Xahn began to speak to her when he was sure they were out of earshot of the other Sith.

"You must not move against her yet. She is too powerful. You could die in the attempt."

"What do you care?" Valia asked.

"I want to help you escape. Together, we can find a way to defeat her."

"This wouldn't be some stupid Sith power grab, would it?"

"This has nothing to do with power. I could care less for it. But freedom is my aim. Freedom from this awful place where more and more of my kind are created every year. I will tell you more when we are safe from prying ears," Xhan replied quietly. He reached room 503 and the door slid open. Inside was a cot, a refresher, and a sink. He closed the door and locked it.

"I can't free you yet. Too dangerous. If I act before I am ready this will be a disaster for both of us."

"So, you a product of the black arts?"

"If by black arts you mean illegal genetic experimenting by these people that think themselves scientists, than yes, I am," Xahn replied. "I have lived in this place my whole life, and have never seen the outside world. I am tired of the status quo."

"You seem to be in favor with your master, and judging by your robes, you seem to be well off. Nice lance, by the way."

"Fashionable chains are still chains, no matter how they are worn," Xahn replied dryly. "Let me tell you my plan..."


	25. Old Wounds

Darth Kashtu's Stronghold, nineteen years ago.

"Perfect! There's no flaw at all?" Kashtu said excitedly, amazed at what she had been told as she sat behind Darth Ptolemus' ornate cherry wood desk, going over the information dossier she had been provided on Valia Renn.

"It is a great success, Madame. This will be a day that is long remembered. It will see the rise of the Sith Philosophers, and it will see the end of those who have stood in our way for so long. Jolee is no longer around to hinder us, and Dimmak is not as strong as he used to be, given that Lady Thrasyllus was able to defeat him," Ptolemus reported.

"My son is still alive?" she asked, heart soaring at the thought he had survived this long with his genetic difficulties. It made her proud of him.

"Yes. Stubborn also. Unfortunately, Bron-Son is still with him, so you will probably have to kill him in order to isolate Dimmak fully."

"Gladly. Force knows he's had it coming. But getting back to Valia, you said she had military training?"

"I did. That is why she is so hard to get through to; she has an extra layer of discipline besides Jedi teaching to call upon."

"Hmmm. The Enclave?"

"We have captured most of the Jedi, but Masters Vandar, Vrook, and Zhar have evaded our patrols. A Padawan by the name of Mical has also evaded our searches."

"We must move quickly then. We need to be prepared to abandon the facility. We're taking the Jedi with us, see if we can turn some of them. For now, though, I wish to speak to the girl."

Ptolemus bowed and Kashtu sat back in the comfy leather chair, rubbing her eyes.

Twenty years. She had been dead for twenty years and only this girl seemed to hint to the original Kashtu's fate. She could question her about that, but more importantly, she had to try and convince the girl to come over to her side, where the Jedi would not be allowed to ruin the lives of Force Sensitives like her or her son any further.

She flexed in the white, tight fitting, specially treated leather armor that had been provided to her. She walked around in the boots, getting comfortable, and then threw on the white cloak that had been a family heirloom preserved by Ptolemus and proceeded down the wide, darkened corridors and made her way past the awestruck acolytes that gave her a wide berth.

Kashtu always looked forward to a challenge.

Remember, you must play along," Xahn told her.

"You sure 'bout this?" You could get killed this way."

"Don't worry about me. Hippocratus will not allow them to without thoroughly questioning me himself," Xahn reassured her. "Enough. I can say no more. The Dark Lord approaches."

Xahn took up his lightsaber lance and stood by Valia as Kashtu entered the room.

"Leave us," she told Xahn.

Xahn nodded and strode out quickly.

Kashtu and Valia looked at each other, predatory gazes reflecting back on one another. Two people getting ready for war. Kashtu's slightly bronzed skin matching Valia's. The features definitely were those Valia would no doubt be staring at in a mirror, given a few more years.

Kashtu held out her hand and with a flick of her fingers, undid the restraints, allowing Valia to go free.

"You won't need those," Kashtu spoke encouragingly. "I apologize for leaving you this way, but I needed a chance to speak with you personally, without hostilities."

Valia was on her, hands in a lethal pincer shape rushing for Kashtu's jugular.

The Sith Lord reacted instantly dodging to the side in a swift, almost liquid motion. Her right hand shot out, thumb and first two fingers positioned to resemble the claws of some raptor. She gripped an area just below Valia's wrist, clamping down with the strength of a bird of prey.

Valia almost went to her knees as her whole right arm surged with sharp, almost intolerable pain. A burst of adrenaline made her forget it momentarily as she swung her remaining elbow around to try and connect with Kashtu's face-

Another talon-shaped hand hit her elbow, causing Valia to gasp in pain as she finally dropped to her knees. Kashtu's power lifted Valia's arms and forced them together, a set of iron grey shackles from Kashtu's belt flying onto them and clicking shut with finality.

"Okaaayyy, maybe you WILL need those," Kashtu replied in an unworried though slightly irked manner.  
She knelt down as Valia tried to fight off the still throbbing pain in her arms.

"Scorpion Pincers are no match for the Eagle's Talons," she added gently. "But I am impressed. Most people pass out right about now."

"I been through worse," Valia spat bitterly. "You're wrong if you think you can break me with pain."

"It is not my intent to break you. In truth, I would prefer not to use pain. Messy. There is also that troublesome revenge factor from your victim. Very unpredictable."

"Then you're not hurting the victim enough. My doctrine says if you're gonna hurt someone, hurt 'em bad enough that you never have to lay awake at night wondering whether they'll come after you. They'll be too scared to do so."

"The doctrine of fear. I prefer respect."

"The most respect Sith can earn is someone taking the trouble to stab them in the face rather than in the back."

"How you got into the Jedi with those views is puzzling. Perhaps Vandar thinks he can succeed with you where he failed with me."

Valia felt a chill crawl up her spine, the woman's voice sounded more and more like her stepmother's when she listened to it. And it seemed to crawl into her head, wash over her skin.

Again, Kashtu's mercurial movements caught Valia off guard, and she was suddenly beside Valia, her head next to her ear.

"Ah, you recognize this voice," Kashtu said in a silky manner, eyes closed. "A voice from your youth...encouraging you."

"You better be real damn careful what you say next, Sith."

"She's...listening to you read. She smiles at you, and you hug her...she's pushing you on a swing one day...and then the strange old men come for you. They smell of incense and mountain flowers. Their frames are thin and bony, their heads are shaved, and they are covered by only a simple brown toga. Their beards...nearly reach to the ground. These are the old men. The wise men. They live on the mountain top with their secret arts of murder-and they have come to make you one of their own. And then...your childhood ends in the first day of pain..."

Valia's hands were suddenly wrapped around Kashtu's throat, Valia herself gripped in an almost mindless rage. The Sith had made this personal.

"Your...mother...tries to get you back, but there is no helping it. You are a member of the clan, and you will learn the clan's blackest skills," Kashtu got out, starting to choke…

"_Shut up!_" Valia snarled, trying to wall off her emotions, desperately trying to get back control of the situation. Her grip around the Sith Lord's neck tightened, but pain made the grip weaker then killing strength. She was impotent. And the shackles she was in seemed to restrain her ability to lash out with the Force.

Kashtu's trance persisted. "And then the fires come, the killing, and your mother dies in the fighting, cut down by a hand you don't recognize...and then you flee."

"She wasn't my mother!" Valia screamed, shaking as the old wounds were reopened, the blood still pouring fresh. "I didn't...I didn't..." Her grip on the Sith's neck weakened further.

Kashtu's eyes finally opened, realized Valia's hands were around her throat, and effortlessly pulled them away. She stood up.

"My apologies. I sometimes get lost in the past. Did you ever find out who killed the original me?"

"I wouldn't know," Valia replied, trying not to wince as the death of her mother-no, her stepmother-played out in Valia's head over and over.

"Your thoughts betray you...Jubei..." Kashtu, said, her eyes closing as she divined the information from the recesses of Valia's mind, who struggled to control her surprise. "You are in denial."

"You don't know me."

"True, I don't. A glimpse of your past, no matter how detailed, hardly tells me everything I want to know about you. Your background is a fascinating one-I would love to compare notes sometime-but I can tell we aren't exactly going to be having a true meeting of the minds anytime soon. I'm sorry I did that, but I have no time for the runaround you were giving poor Ptolemus. We have enough on our plate as it is, Jubei."

"Don't you dare call me that," Valia spat.

"Child, listen to me," Kashtu said, clasping Valia's chin and turning it upwards to her. "I'm telling you the truth when I say you are a creation of mine, and the finest of the bunch. If anyone has a right to call you your real name, it is me. If you don't believe me, I can bring you the medical reports myself. I can bring you holos of me at your age, I can even bring you Vandar, who will corroborate my evidence. I'm telling you the truth. If I was not, why did three masters supervise you your second day here. Why does Jedi Master Vrook fear you-yes, I know all about what you did to that poor girl Cariaga. Why is it they specifically wanted you kept away from me?"

Kashtu saw Valia's hard stare falter for just a second, she was getting through. There was still a great deal of anger, though. That was to be expected.

"I can feel your anger, it gives you focus. Makes you strong, but you are directing it at the wrong person. You must control yourself. I am not your enemy. I have told you the truth from the moment we started to talk. The Jedi, though...they love their secrets too much, Force or otherwise."

"I'm Jedi. You're a Sith back from the dead. You'll be dead within a week if I'm lucky, Necromancer."

"Trust me, girl, you are no Jedi. Not yet. I devoted my life to the Code. You couldn't be less a Jedi if you tried."

"At least I don't have to worry about all the science experiments you got locked up in here."

"You're one to talk. Manipulation is still not an exact science. There is some intrinsic quality missing. With you, the answer is within my reach. And if you think killing yourself will thwart me, just remember that I have this body to work with."

"All the more reason for me to give you a dirt nap."

"You really want to try this again? Okay. Fine. Take your best shot." Kashtu undid the shackles on Valia's arms with a flick of her hand. "Strike me down. If you can."

Valia stared for a moment, but made no move.

"Thought so. You're still young. You've been at this only professionally for what, two years? I have a good fifty on me studying the intricacies of the Force and the Lightsaber. And no matter how dirty your tricks are-and by all indication, the tricks are something fierce-you won't close the experience gap on me with brute force like you could with some two-bit darksider," Kashtu answered, pacing around the room a bit, her mercurial movements adding to a her presence as a shadow to Valia's Force perception.

"Your arrogance is your weakness," Valia said with a flash of insight.

"And your faith in brute strength is yours," Kashtu snapped, turning around. "Why should we be enemies? We're cut from the same cloth, we've both had our hard knocks, and your membership in the Jedi is so questionable it is almost not worth mentioning.

"Why would I want to join you?"

"I can offer you freedom. In the Jedi Order, you will never be allowed to love, never allowed the things ordinary civilians are, never allowed to explore your full potential. You don't want to use the Dark Side? Fine! Don't! How many of your Jedi teachers would encourage that when it came to the light side of the Force? You'll hobble yourself if you stay with men like Vandar, who don't have the ability to quell arguments against only one way of thinking. You won't have to serve an Order that snatches children from parents and brainwashes them." At this statement, Valia's keen ears detected a subtle edge of bitterness in that last statement. Kashtu had obviously had a poor experience.

"I have no desire for affection. Power holds nothing for me. And you think too little of loyalty, considering how incredibly loyal these jokers you call Sith were in resurrecting you."

"They are not jokes. They have stood by me when all others drifted away. They do not deserve to be insulted like that."

"Well, that's a new one, a boss who actually likes the employees. I'm touched. Hit a real sensitive spot there," Valia grumbled, dripping sarcasm from her words.

Kashtu merely stared at her, and then shook her head.

"They must see something in you, if they hold onto someone who so blatantly displays their emotions on their sleeve. I wonder-did they intend for you to be a weapon against me, like they did with my son, Dimmak?"

"That thing is your SON?" Valia asked, things snapping into place for her instantly over the emotion Kashtu had.

"And your brother, from my estimate. Created from my own blood. He...did not turn out as well as I had hoped."

"You can say that again," Valia said under her breath.

For the first time, Valia actually saw Kashtu become angered, and felt a spike of all too familiar pain from the Sith.

"I wasn't able to raise him the way I wanted. It is one of many failings I would take back if possible. But don't ever insult him like that ever again," Kashtu warned, her hawk stare actually causing Valia to back away slightly, if only an inch.

"I still won't turn. I will rescue my friends, and I WILL send you back to Jigoku, Necromancer."

"I doubt it. I have an offer to make you. You can mull it over. But don't say no until you've truly had time to consider it."

Valia folded her arms. "This'll be rich."

"Join me, and we can end this destructive conflict. I will personally see to the safety of your friends. You will be my new apprentice. I will teach you everything I know, without restraints on yourself. Perhaps in time we will become closer...in a familial sense. I have no wish to be your enemy, but I will do what must be done to ensure my survival and victory over the Jedi Order and the reformation of the Republic."

"I got a better offer," Valia replied.

"Let's hear it."

"How about you kneel before me so I can cut your head off and show it to Vandar when I escape from this rotten hellhole."

Kashtu pursed her lips in dismay.

"I see that you will be a difficult one. But I am a patient woman, and will not be provoked so easily. I bid you farewell, for now." Kashtu headed for the exit, but as she was about to leave, she turned around.

"You walk the path of a Dark Jedi, Jubei."

"Only my stepmother is allowed to call me Jubei, and she's dead. You don't get to call me that. You are not family."

"Really? Why do I see recognition in your eyes? Why does my voice cause such pain to you?"

"You sound familiar, I'll admit. But that is about it."

"Denial is unhealthy. It has destroyed many a Jedi before you. Please, consider what I have said. Goodbye for now, Wandering Sting," Kashtu said before she finally exited the room, knowing Valia had gone pale. Valia heard the door click.

She stood there, the memories playing across her mind as she went to the cot and started crying.

How had this woman gotten under her skin so quickly? She had gotten past her defenses, cut through them like they weren't even there.

It was the voice. Had to be. It sounded too much like her stepmother's not to be.

Valia began to wonder how well she had really known the blind woman that had raised her.

"Orders, Madame?" Ptolemus asked, waiting just outside, in the corridor.

"She is more fragile than she appears, Ptolemus. I think that you may have overestimated her resolute nature. She's in denial about her relationship to me."

"I disagree. Milady didn't crack when we threatened her Echani friend. Most Jedi would. You should be cautious," Ptolemus warned her as they began heading for the labs.

"Oh, I am, old friend. She has clearly been through much. Did you see all those lightsaber scars on her?"

"Indeed I have. She defeated my first attempt to bring her here."

"What I'm curious about is why you simply didn't bring her to us first when you learned of her existence."

"Other Jedi were present. Trying to take her would have been unwise."

"I'm amazed you've managed to maintain your cover this long."

"It has become almost a game to me at this point," Ptolemus chuckled. "By the way, I have something you might want to look at..."

Ptolemus produced a lightsaber from his belt. Kashtu immediately took it.

"Whose is this? Looks like mine, but there should be an activation buttuon near the top..."

"It's Valia's weapon. I was unable to secure your old one."

"Hmm...seems like I need to plan a little trip to the Enclave. First, however, we will go to the lab. I want to see the advances you have made..."

Orlock, Present Day.

Valia snapped awake in the cot, covered in sweat. She was naked, heat having made it too hot to sleep comfortably.

She got up from the bed, rubbing the bridge of her nose, and then grabbed the loose red robe nearby and threw it on, tying it off for some semblance of modesty.

Leaving the bedroom, she ventured down the polished wood hallway to the lavish kitchen.

As she walked she tried to shake herself from the vivid dream-memory by admiring the paintings of the local scenery hanging on the walls.

She scowled as she reached the kitchen, finding Kreia already there, her hood down, sipping from a delicate looking teacup.

"I can feel your glare from here, Exile," Kreia spoke blandly as she got a another cup down from the wood cupboard. "Shall I fix you something?"

"I always make my own, thanks," Valia replied gruffly. "You're up late."

"Insomnia. Besides, how can I sleep when I hear you moaning from down the hall?"

"Bad dreams," Valia replied with a crabby undertone, pulling an old wood chair out from a table as she took dried tea leaves in a wood canister specially made to preserve them and put some into a small orb-like strainer.

She caught a whiff of Kreia's tea.

"You should not have it with so much sugar. It ruins the taste. Stuff's supposed to clear your mind."

"Forgive me if I prefer to taste my tea rather than think about it clearing my mind. I meditate enough without needing a simple drink to add to it."

"Tea isn't simple. It communicates something every time you drink it. That is why great care should be take when preparing it. It could communicate the wrong thing if it is prepared carelessly."

"And what, exactly does tea communicate?"

"Many things. Depends on the person preparing them. With you, I can tell you are interested only in the big picture, but are capable of missing the finer points. Here, try this," Valia said, offering her a cup of what she had made.

Kreia tasted it, scowling. "It's bitter. No sugar."

"What does that tell you about me?"

"You have no time for niceties. You are focused on the goal...but sometimes to the detriment of everything else."

"And?" Valia pressed.

"You don't think you have earned any niceties. That is why you chose an especially bitter tea." Kreia was beginning to catch on to what her erstwhile student was trying to communicate.

"It isn't really about the tea, is it, Exile?" Kreia asked. "It is about the effort to the task at hand."

At this, Valia offered no confirmation. She simply shrugged. "Could be. If that is what you find when you make tea."

Valia walked away, leaving Kreia to try and figure out just what had been said.

Another two weeks passed of brutal hand to hand drills, breaching procedures, and exercise.

And then one day, Valia gathered the crew in the dining room.

"You can be taught no further. Our time on Orlock is over. We'll be leaving soon. You have learned-or relearned-the first small steps. The rest must be learned in the field. If it were up to me, you'd be here another six months. But we don't have that kind of time, or that kind of luxury."

"Where are we headed next, Fearless Leader?" Atton asked. Besides the Rookie, Atton demonstrated the most pronounced change. He was now leaner, and the training had brought out something in his eyes that most people didn't like to stare into for too long. There was no mistaking the military precision in his movements.

The Rookie had rapidly improved in her abilities since coming to Orlock. The Echani now always seemed to know when someone was behind her, thanks to the ambush training Valia had put her through. And while it wasn't foolproof, it was considerably harder to sneak up on her than it had been before.

Visas had kept to herself, rarely speaking unless spoken to, but she too now had a greater endurance and swifter reflexes. The crew had also discovered she excelled at ambushes. During the drills, she would regularly turn invisible with the Force and hit Valia from any angle she could, and as the days progressed, had begun to succeed with the tactic more than she should have.

Bao-Dur looked stronger, but he was still just as insane as he was when he had come here, and the crew had long since learned to try and ignore his mutterings. For the last few weeks he had been complaining about "Wanting to get to the next chapter."

Bastila now looked healthy again, her muscles now showing in the blue outfit she wore, an article of wear remarkably similar to the tan one she had sported during the civil war. A brand new double bladed lightsaber was now slung diagonally across her back.

"You have all done very well here, and you have given me some optimism that the mission can succeed. But remember, all the training in the world isn't going to matter if you don't have the discipline and, most importantly, the WILL to win. From here on out we operate as a team, but don't be afraid to make judgment calls if the situation is left to your discretion. Above all, when it comes to the enemy, do not hesitate or show any mercy, for they will show you neither on their end. This thing...it is winner take all. And we must not allow our enemy to win. Am I clear?"

The crew nodded. Valia returned the nod and left the crew to their meals.

On the way out, she ran into Shishida.

"So I hear you're leaving," Shishida said glumly.

"You can always come with us. I always got room for one more."

"Nah. I'm more use to you on my own than annoying you endlessly on a small, cramped ship-though mind you, annoying you endlessly is one of my favorite activities."

"No argument there," Valia said with a wry smile.

Shishida smirked. "Always happy to know I've done my job."

Valia chuckled a bit. "Catch you later, Shishida. Tell Syatoris I said goodbye."

The pair hugged. Valia then left for the exit to the mansion.

"Hey Valia!" Shishida called out.

Valia turned.

"May the Force be with you."

"With the Force as a friend, who needs foes?" Valia joked, before turning back to her destination.


	26. Darth Sangraal

Valia had been dozing fitfully in the copilot's seat of the Ebon Hawk when she was awoken by the shriek of an old woman.

Sighing, Valia got up and made her way to the main hold.

Atton was resting against the holo-projector, face ashen.

"You got any liquor?" he asked, looking like he was going to be sick.

"No Atton. I don't have any liquor."

"Eh, might be better if I didn't have any," he replied, smoothing his hair back.

"What happened?" Bastila asked, coming out of the hyperdrive section.

"I uh, I was going to the refresher to, you know, handle business. Kreia was in there taking a shower. The door wasn't locked."

At this, Bastila's face twisted in a mixture of surprise and disgust.

"Atton, you have my sympathies," she replied.

"Frak that was a foul thing to witness. All them wrinkles...I'm gonna be sick."

Valia was trying to keep from smiling. "Next time, Atton, you should knock."

"I couldn't hear anything! You know how silent a sonic shower is!"

"I agree, Exile," Kreia said, walking out-thankfully fully clothed. "Knock, next time, fool."

"Maybe you should have the curtain on next time, you vicious old hag!" Atton replied.

Bao-Dur, unfortunately, chose to walk in at this very moment to add his two credits to the matter. He was eating some sort of candy bar.

"I don't know, General-I think Kreia has a pretty nice wiggle to her," he blurted out.

Everyone stopped and stared at him. Even Kreia stared at him in surprise.

Bao-Dur stared at everyone and shrugged. "What? What did I say?"

"Do you have any idea how wrong it was to utter that statement?" Bastila asked, eyeing him.

"Yeah. What are you gonna do, shoot me? C'mon, Kreia, shake it. Show 'em what you're working with! Here, I'll start dancing along with you," he replied, going into an awkward jig where he half-heartedly shuffled his feet and arms.

"I will be in my chambers, meditating," Kreia replied, unsure of how to respond to the situation.

"You are several kinds of frakked up, Zabrak," Atton muttered, looking at Bao-Dur like the Zabrak had just chewed on a whole kilo of spice.

"Eight kinds," Bao-Dur corrected. "Can we get to the next part already?"

Four hours later.

"Here we are. Korriban. Home of the Sith," Atton announced as he went into orbit above the infamous desert planet. "Torture capital of the galaxy throughout the Jedi Civil War."

"Not anymore," Bastila said, sitting in the co-pilot's chair. "Remember that kid, Dustil? He was a double agent working for the Jal-Shey five years ago. He brought in a hoard of his buddies and they burned the Sith Academy here to the ground. It was a massacre. His men gunned down dozens that day,"

"Dustil always did hate the Sith with a passion. It might have something to do with them bombarding his planet and killing his mother," Mical added, staring at the planet as he stood over Bastila's seat. "You said a Jedi master was here, Valia?"

"Yes. Vash. She was one of the masters who formally exiled me. She is one of the people I have to find. Might be able to piece a bit more together about what is going on with her help," Valia rasped as she stood next to Atton.

"You certainly won't find her at the academy. Why would a Jedi even come here? It's a death sentence for Jedi. Always has been," Mical noted out loud.

"Vash was an investigator. She might have been trying to ascertain which faction of Sith she is dealing with. But if she can't get into the academy, where else could she go?" Valia wondered out loud.

"Hmm..." Mical mumbled rubbing his chin. And then it dawned on him. "Oh no. I think I figured out where she is. She went to my place."

"Your place? Mical, is there something I missed here?" Bastila asked, turning to stare at him.

"A great deal, unfortunately. But it does not matter. Look, set the Hawk for these coordinates, then get out of the seat and let me pilot. We'll be shot down by the security systems otherwise," Mical ordered bluntly.

Both Atton and Bastila sighed and got out of the seats while Mical sat down.

Valia took the seat next to him. "Where we going, Kid?"

"Home sweet home," Mical replied. "My father's castle to be specific."

"How dangerous is the place?"

"With me there, you should be perfectly fine. But then again, You're here too, so I won't count on thing's staying fine for too long," he answered curtly as he piloted through the atmosphere, heading to a barren canyon of rock and sand. Carefully maneuvering into the canyon, he piloted slowly to what appeared to be a smooth rock face.

Mical punched in something on the transmission pad. The smooth rock face split open to reveal a darkened hanger. He quickly piloted the Hawk onto the dusty pad, which clearly hadn't seen use in some time.

He then sat back and breathed deeply. Then clapped his hands.

"Okay, ground rules. This place is crawling with Sith artifacts. I know the layout of this place. Don't touch anything unless I say it is safe, don't wander off. The place is lined with booby traps. We'll have to make our way to security to turn all the cameras back on before we can seriously look for Vash. For her sake I hope she hasn't gotten herself impaled or something," Mical said to Valia.

"Got ya," Valia replied. She got up and went back to the main hold.

"Everyone, move out!"

The plan was relatively simple. One team proceeded forward, while the other stayed by to guard the hanger. Valia, the Rookie, Atton, and Mical were the team preceding deeper into the facility, while Bastila, Visas, Bao-Dur, and Kreia stayed behind.

"We'll check back with you guys every fifteen minutes or so. If you come under attack, retreat to the ship and clear out of here. We can handle ourselves," Valia ordered. "We'll call you for retrival when the danger has passed. And Bastila, you had BETTER show up with the damn ship this time, or I will torment you from Jigoku should I be cut down," Valia warned the ex-Jedi.

"I'll show, don't worry," Bastila replied glumly, fidgeting.

"Good, if that's all, then we'll be on our way." Valia turned with Mical leading point as they reached an exit to the hanger. Mical used the Force to hit the light switch and the entire hanger lit up, revealing a series of elaborately carved statues of robed figures not entirely unlike the ones they had spotted passing over the Valley of the Dark Lords lining the hanger, which seemed to be lined with vertical strips of gold, the docking pad having the color and qualities of smooth pearl.

"This must have set your daddy back," Atton remarked, whistling.

"You kidding, this was a drop in the bucket. He was on the Galactic Fortune 800 list more than three times," Mical replied.

"Really? You never told me that," Valia remarked as she proceeded into what appeared to be an entrance hall, that was just as lavishly decorated as the hanger. Paintings of family members lined the lavish room, with one picture that bore a striking resemblance to Mical himself save for a brown goatee hanging prominently at the end, which had a grand spiral staircase.

"Let's see. Dining area is on the second floor. Sorcery room should be at the end, and interrogation should be just beyond that, which makes Security just beyond the guest rooms..." Mical said absently to himself. "Follow me."

As they passed under the largest portrait, Atton got curious.

"So who's this guy?" he asked, pointing to the large one with the goatee-Mical.

"Oh...that would be none other than Tulak Hord himself, greatest of the Sith lightsaber duelists," Mical answered.

"You mean nobody has surpassed him?" Valia asked.

"Not to my knowledge. But then again, modern estimations of lightsaber skill would supposedly be laughable compared to that of the ancient Sith. If you ask me, that's just grandstanding on their part. Propaganda. Though by all accounts he WAS very good at sword fighting. But his skill isn't why he was so famous-or rather, infamous-to the Sith. Truth is he is much better known for his vices than his skill."

"What were his vices?" Atton asked, a grin starting to form.

Mical awkwardly scratched his head. "He had an unfortunate addiction to-everything. Drugs, gambling, stealing, petty theft, casual assault, racketeering, betting on slow animals at races, cursing loudly and frequently, public indecency, public intoxication, lewd conduct with aliens he could mate with without being killed, lewd conduct with aliens he could NOT mate with without being killed, exposing himself to strangers, exposing himself to animals, exposing himself to the Dark Lord Ajunta Pall, felony assault, felony smuggling, and addiction to obtaining prostitution at all hours of the day. He eventually caught a disease from this and died, cursing everybody as loud as he could and urinating on his doctor as he passed away, who he claims to have hated. He had over a hundred and seventeen children at the time of his death. But he supposedly ran a very tight ship when HE was the Dark Lord, despite these shortcomings he performed regularly."

Atton had no response to this. He was doing all he could not to start laughing. Valia also had a small smile on her face too. Just thinking that someone who looked like Mical would be capable of all that was just plain amusing. Valia guessed that every family had a black sheep somewhere. Hell, she herself was an example.

"But I have spoken enough on that man I think. Come, we should head for security," Mical finished.

As they proceeded through the elaborate interior, Mical would stop occasionally and open a hidden panel, disabling the security up ahead.

"What did your father do with all his wealth, Mical?" Valia asked.

"A lot of the time it went into funding the Sith Philosophers operations. He was one of their largest backers, if not THE largest. His death hurt them badly, I think, and since at I already had problems of my own with my parents dead, I wasn't ready or willing to carry on the family business. I threw in with the Jedi. I gotta say, though-for a time, I was tempted to seek out the other Philosophers to finish my Sith training. Mind you though, I was ten at the time. A stupid kid."

"How much were you taught?" the Rookie asked, concern darkening her features.

"I'm not proud to say this, but...a fair amount," Mical answered. He stopped and effortlessly pried open another panel in the guest rooms quarter and flicked a switch.

"Good thing I remembered that one. If I hadn't deactivated it, these two giant blades would have swooped from the ceiling and vivisected us."

"Giant blades from the ceiling? Seems a little...impractical," Atton noted skeptically.

"Mother had a lot of free time on her hands when she was designing the interior of this place and overseeing the construction of the traps. Truth is, Father himself would often question her taste in booby traps, as a good deal of them seemed to be rip-offs of old action holos she used to watch."

"Seriously?" Atton asked. "How the hell did your family navigate this place?

"We had good memories. Father considered it a part of my training to keep me on my toes...I'm just kidding, most of the time they were shut off except in cases of home invasion," Mical laughed quickly, though it was a notably empty laugh.

The four continued on their trek.

"How considerate of the exile to leave us to guard duty," Kreia all but grumbled.

"Once again, here is Kreia, doing her absolute best to make an annoying task even more annoying," Bastila said tersely.

"I take it this is common with her?" Visas asked quietly.

Bastila stared at Visas with a peeved gaze. "Kreia is the kind of person who sucks the life out of a whole room with just one ill-timed comment. In fact I heard that one time she got a Dark Jedi to kill himself doing just that."

"You are being unfair to me, _padawan," _Kreia spoke, making that last word sound like the crack from a whip. "Besides, that Dark Jedi was already depressed from his consumption of alcohol."

"What are the chances the Jedi we are trying to track even discovered this place?" Visas asked, trying to keep focus on their task.

Bastila folded her arms. "This is Vash we are talking about. She was always capable of discovering even the most hidden away places."

"And given that this is a Sith hideout she probably got herself into a booby trap of some kind. We'll be lucky if she isn't dead," Kreia snorted.

"This conversation's entertaining and all, but I think I heard something," Bao-Dur said in that always disturbing soft voice of his. He peered behind the Ebon Hawk and spotted a small combat shuttle approaching the open hanger bay.

"You know those times where people break out into a panic? I think this is one of those. A scene transition might also be in order," Bao-Dur said with a lopsided grin.

Valia and her team had finally made it to the main security room. It was filled with rows of screens and terminals, all darkened, and covered by a fine sheet of dust.

Mical immediately went over and wiped the dust off the main terminal before powering it up.

The screens flickered to life. Lines of code ran through them before a message popped up on all the screens: ENTER COMMAND.

Mical sighed and began punching commands into the console furiously.

"This tech's a few decades out of date. Most of it was made back when we still used hyperspace beacons and Exar Kun was still sucking wind as a Jedi," Mical mentioned offhandedly as he typed. The screens finally flickered to life with security feeds from all over the complex.

"Let's see if we can't find Vash on this damn thing. Hope she's not in the pleasure room..." Mical grumbled.

"Pleasure room?" Valia asked with a raised brow.

"My mom and dad had some...exotic ideas of fun. Let's just leave it at that," Mical responded.

Finally he spotted the image he had been looking for. They all spotted it and their eyes went wide.

"Oh dear," Mical said worriedly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "She's in the combat simulator. We need to get her out of there or she's going to die."

Valia's com-link buzzed.

"Valia! It's Bastila! The Sith are here! We're taking heavy fire!"

"Get out of there!" Valia ordered.

"The way out is blocked!"

"Dammit! Atton, come with me! Rookie and Mical, you guys secure Vash!" Valia ordered.

Mical nodded. "I'll bring up the security turrets, program you as friendlies."

Valia nodded and broke into a run with Atton.

After a few minutes of typing he nodded to the Rookie. "Miss, if you will accompany me, we have a Jedi Master to bail out."

As they ran through the decorated and lavish halls of Mical's old home, the Rookie had a question.

"Mical, how does the combat simulator work?"

"Well, it's a combination of holograms and Force-based technology. Very dangerous if the safety protocols are removed. They have the same thing in the Coruscant Temple, but their simulations have a spotty record on faithful representation of famous combatants. Not so when it comes to this one."

"Who have you programmed in?" She asked between spurts of breath.

Mical stared at her. "Who can you name?"

"It's that extensive?"

"Dad had Jedi and Sith programmed into this thing that both sides are probably unfamiliar with,' he answered. They stopped at the entrance to the simulation chamber.

"Okay, Look. Vash probably wandered in here by accident. Almost everything in this place can double as a security measure. My Mother herself often stuck her enemies in this thing. Good news is that the sim is only programmed for one on one battles. This tech was very expensive even back then. Set even my dad back a little. Bad news is that whichever sim is in there, there is a chance it's a sim of an extremely skilled combatant in either the Force or with the lightsaber. So when we go in there, be ready for anything. I'm gonna try and disable the thing while you distract the simulation and get Vash out. Whatever you do, Miss, DO NOT ATTEMPT TO FIGHT. The sim could tear you apart, especially since it seems the safety protocols have been disengaged. Do you understand?"

The Rookie nodded.

"Good. Ready?"

"Yes."

Mical hit the buttons on the side panel. The turbo-door slid open.

Vash has her back against the wall, trading a furious set of parries and thrusts with a simulation of a dark-skinned human male with puffy, curly black hair and a respectable goatee in jedi robes, obviously of the dantooine cut. His dark green lightsaber was inverted in his hand, his swipes fast and liquid in motion. Vash's lightly graying hair was matted to her scalp, and her normally ivory cheeks were flush from exhaustion as she defended herself. The Rookie spotted a number of cuts and scrapes through the tears in her robes. Simulation indeed.

The Rookie took her collapsed staff and tossed it at the simulation. It passed right through, hitting the beige-colored wall behind it.

The Simulation turned to the Rookie, and even though it was essentially a computer program, the Rookie couldn't help but take the look in the program's eyes to be nothing less that total malice.

The Simulation charged into a leaping mid-air corkscrew, and the Rookie frantically rolled out of the way of his lightsaber. The Simulation spun his lightsaber in front of him, forcing the Rookie to back away.

"Jedi!" she yelled to Vash. "Now would be a good time to run!"

Vash didn't run, however. She charged while the simulation was distracted and plunged her blade into the back of the sim. It vanished instantly.

"Contact," a computerized female voice with a Coruscanti accent announced. "One point to guest. Half point to interloper for assistance. Congratulations! The Jolee Bindo Simulation is one of this programs most difficult. Please opt for new combatant, or face death by electrification of chamber. Have a nice day."

"I opt for a new...combatant," Vash said robotically, wearily raising her lightsaber.

The Rookie looked to the exit. It was sealed. And Mical was still fiddling with something by a panel near the exit.

"Damn!" he spat. "Brace yourselves! Rookie, remember what I said about not attempting to fight? Well, now it has been changed to 'fight or die'. Can you handle that?"

The Rookie nodded, quickly retrieving her staff and activating it.

"Selecting new combatant..." the voice announced. "Selecting...Darth Sangraal."

Vash's eyes widened. The Rookie saw Mical began working even more furiously than he had. "Come on!" he hissed to himself.

A gathering of bright particles formed at the center of the chamber. It coalesced into the form of a particularly luscious barefoot woman with caramel skin and an hourglass figure. Her choice of clothes was teasingly sparse, being only a simple white loincloth and a white top clinging to her bosom, showing off a respectable amount of muscle. A gold headdress embellished with a snake head was fixed to her scalp. Long, smooth dark hair flowed down past the small of her back. The lips were painted black. Her hands ended in fingernails that had been sharpened to a point and painted a steel color.

The Simulated woman opened her eyes, which were a strange crimson color. She delicately unclipped a lightsaber from her loin cloth. It was a golden hilt, not entirely dissimilar from Mical, save that there was an added horizontal cross guard at the top.

"You who are about to die-I salute you," the Simulation of Sangraal spoke, her accent light and yet making the ear focus intently whenever a word issued forth from it.

A blade of midnight black with a white aura surrounding it hissed out of her hilt. And then Darth Sangraal was charging so fast towards them that Vash and the Rookie barely had time to leap out of the way from a strike that would have killed both of them at the same time.

Darth Sangraal whipped her blade towards Vash, who barely blocked it. This was a simulation of a genuine professional. Each strike was never anything less than a killing blow. While Vash blocked the fatal strike, Sangraal swung her right foot with inhuman speed towards Vash's neck, clearly meaning to break it. Vash peddled backward and guarded.

The Rookie made a swipe for Sangraal's backside. Sangraal back flipped out of the strike and over the Rookie's head.

Only Valia's training saved the Rookie as she instinctively dodged the blade that would have burned her spine in half.

Vash went on the offensive, bounding across the room and swiping for Sangraal's long, agile legs. But Sangraal utilized the free space the chamber afforded and seemed to simply melt of the way of the strike. A pondering in the back of the frightened Rookie's head mused that the way Sangraal fought looked like the Ataru fighting style she had seen in a few holo-documentaries on the Jedi with what seemed to be dance moves incorporated into it. Belly Dancing, to be specific.

The Rookie regrouped with Vash, Making sure to block the way between them and Mical, still desperately trying to find the right bypass that would deactivate the system.

Sangraal pulled back, guarding with her blade. She held out her right arm.

"I've been looking forward to this," the Simulation said, running her sharp pinky nail against the wrist.

The blood that spilled was an unnatural bright red...and it moved, twisting and taking shape into something monstrous.

It looked like a kath hound that had been skinned alive. Powerful sinews and arteries pumping through it were exposed to open air. Its eyes possessed a putrid phosphorescent yellow glow.

"Flesh Demon!" Vash yelled backing away from the snarling...thing.

The Rookie began to wonder how good a simulation this actually was. The snarling abomination growled like the twisting of a tree branch crossed with the hiss of a snake, advancing patiently, ever alert for the chance to pounce.

"Yet another joins the dead. Do not fear. The afterlife shall hold little pain for you. I've been there, and I turned out just fine," the simulation said gently, with a very small amount of mirth.

The Flesh Demon leaped for the Rookie, who reacted with a desperate thrust of her staff into the abomination's maw.

The creature choked, and the Rookie drove it in deeper, slamming the monster to the ground and yanking the staff to the side, breaking the creature's neck.

She barely got a chance to sigh in relief, before her combat senses made her back flip away from the buzz saw that Sangraal's lightsaber had become when she had flung it.

Vash saw an opportunity and took it, making a leaping strike that connected square on Sangraal's head. It split open like a melon, part's of it catching fire as the blade burned through it.

But, to Vash's surprise (A more than likely morale-crushing horror), the split halves of Sangraal's head formed a smile.

"Tisk tisk Jedi. You disappoint me. Surely you can do better. But you're a bit new to this, so I'll be polite and forgive it," Sangraal said.

The insides of Sangraal's split open head began to snarl and grow teeth. Vash backed away as a number of tendrils that were also covered in teeth sprouted from the inside, the effect not entirely unlike that of some sort of a fly-trap. Her muscular abdomen split open and a new pair of skinless arms, each sporting clawed fingernails, grasped eagerly for Vash and the Rookie.

"MICAL!" the Rookie screamed "Whatever you're gonna do, do it quick!"

"I'm trying!" Mical hissed.

"There's no trying! Just DO IT!" she shouted.

"It'll be less horrific if you just come a little closer," the Simulation spoke. "It's not like I bite or anything. Where would you get that idea?"

The simulation summoned its lightsaber and leapt for them.

The Rookie reacted, slamming the thing with the hardest Force push she could muster. The creature was blown back, realistically impacting against the wall behind it.

The once beautiful monster writhed on the floor for a few moments before dissolving into what seemed to be a pool of blood and reconstituting its figure.

When it reformed, it was wearing the same clothes, but not the same body.

The Rookie blinked for a moment in surprise as Darth Sangraal took the Rookie's form. But it wasn't an exact reproduction. The eyes were still red, and her face had a look of cold calculation that the Rookie never in a million years would have imagined as hers. Somehow, this made her new form even more hideous to the Rookie than her previous one had.

"I LIKE your body. I'll think I'll keep it," Sangraal purred in that seductive voice of hers, readying her lightsaber once more. "Nothing personal, of course."

Just as the Rookie braced herself for Sangraal's overhead chop, Mical let out a whoop of excitement.

The Simulation of Darth Sangraal vanished, exploding in a burst of bright particles. The Rookie collapsed in relief. The chamber's exit unsealed. Vash leaned against the wall of the chamber.

"Who...THE HELL...was that?" the Rookie breathed.

"Darth Sangraal. Were you not paying attention?" Mical asked, wiping the sweat of panic from his forehead. "She was the Sith Philosopher's equivalent of Dimmak. She was supposedly some resurrected ancient Sith Lord from one of the Great Schisms," he went on. "She was briefly Darth Kashtu's trump card against the Jedi Order. Sangraal also took over operations when Kashtu was temporarily incapacitated. She personally led assaults on the major Jedi temples. She captured holocrons, databases, and relics. Over three hundred and fifty Jedi died trying to stop her. She converted over four hundred more to her side. She turned senators, admirals, spies. Many feared she would be the death of the Order, as she was just as dedicated to Kashtu's ideals as any of her followers."

"So what happened?" the Rookie asked.

"Well, as with most Sith Lords, the pattern of their lives played out in true fashion: We got lucky," Vash spoke. "It turns out, contrary to popular Jedi belief, that when pitted against an unstoppable force, you don't need an equally immovable object. You just need an equally unstoppable force. Basic physics. A freak of nature was killing us, so we needed our own freak of nature. Dimmak fit the bill nicely. I don't exactly know the details of everything, but their battle destroyed a swath of the cityscape surrounding the temple. To be fair, Sangraal had him on the ropes for most of it. But Dimmak...he's almost worse than Valia Renn in some respects. He doesn't register pain or fear. He's walking chaos. And it was only his first outing. Just when Sangraal thought she had him, she made the mistake of getting to close. That portal in his chest sucked her in and she hasn't been seen since. I hear a great deal of older Jedi still have nightmares of her," she finished.

"She could actually do everything she demonstrated?" the Rookie asked.

"Ancient Force ability. It's called Tissue Control. She could control every molecule, every blood cell. Her Flesh Demons, whenever they consumed a foe, would take on a mockery of their victim's form and continue the fight."

"What if it had assigned us Dimmak?" the Rookie asked, now intensely curious.

"You guys would have been dead in seconds," Mical asserted. "Come. Let's get out of here."

"Wait...I owe you for saving my life. What are your names?" Vash asked.

"Mical is my name and Sith Lords are my specialty," Mical bowed.

Vash looked at the Rookie. "You look familiar..."

"I get that a lot," the Rookie replied. "There will be time enough for introductions later. We have to regroup with our leader. This way, please," the Rookie said, walking out of the chamber.

Vash again nodded and followed.

Valia finished breaking the neck of the final Sith Assassin. The bodies of Ebon Hawk crews would-be killers lay strewn about in heaps, broken and twisted, some burnt by lightning, others, cut by lightsabers, and still more killed by blaster fire and grenades.

"Man, that scene transition totally resolved problems on our end," Bao-Dur said in his usual deadly-soft tone.

"What are you talking about?" Visas asked.

Bao-Dur whistled. "Oh, nothing..."

"That won't be the last of them. Atton, Bastila, you get into the Hawk and pull out of here now. The rest of us will fall back and form a defensive perimeter in the security section," Valia ordered. "We'll call when we've repelled the second assault they'll be sending."

"How do you know there will be a second attack?" Visas asked.

"Because, Seer, if there is anything the Exile knows at first glance, it is cannon fodder," Kreia explained in a chiding tone.

"Well said, witch," Valia nodded, again disturbed by how on the money the old woman was. "Be sure to hide the ship some where they won't be able to scan for you."

"I spotted some canyons not too far off that'll screw with most ship sensors pretty good. I'll set it down there," Atton replied. With that, he and Bastila walked up the ramp. It hissed shut and the Hawk lifted off a few moments later.

"Everyone, fall back!" Valia barked. Everyone followed her back to the entrance of the facility, running right into Vash, Mical, and the Rookie in the process.

Vash froze and brought her lightsaber to guard the instant she spotted Valia, backing away quickly.

"Whoa, easy there, Vash. I'm not your enemy," Valia rasped, holding her hands up. "See? I'm unarmed."

"C'mon, Valia, we both know you don't need a lightsaber or even the Force to kill me. So I think I'm just gonna stay defensive until you explain why you're here."

"Atris sent me."

"Liar! Atris is dead! Just like every other Jedi who went to the Katarr conclave."

"I also found Vrook. He's alive also. He didn't believe me either. Look, Master Vash, I suspect you've been up to your ears in poodoo trying to survive and all, but I need you to trust me. I risked my life and the lives of my comrades coming here, and we just finished mopping up a contingent of assassins that have plagued the Order for a while now. You always knew me to be pragmatic, so can you honestly believe I would risk so much to find you, just so I could kill you when I did. Give me a little more credit than that."

"You have risked more for less," Vash shot back.

"Okay, let me put it the old fashioned way: If I wanted you dead, you'd be dead. And you're outnumbered. Now can we talk?"

Vash narrowed her eyes as she weighed her options. Finally after a moment, she shut off her lightsaber.

"Alright. But I'm watching you."

"Fine by me," Valia replied, sighing in relief. "I say we have less than five minutes before the Sith attack again. So let's retreat and figure out how to defend this place."

"Defend? SCREW DEFENDING IT!" Vash yelled. "I've been stuck in this place for five frakking hours. Let's blow it up! Place is saturated with the Dark Side anyway!"

"We cannot allow the Sith to control this place. Who knows what they would find here? Besides, if we control it, any information it has could help us determine whatever faction of Sith it is we are dealing with. Do you want to destroy it now?" Valia asked.

"Err...fine. We will do what we must," Vash muttered.

As the group retreated to the security center, they could already hear more combat shuttles landing behind them.


	27. Departure with Ghost in tow

"How bad can we expect an attack from the Sith to be?" Vash asked as the group retreated further into the complex.

"Well, they lost their initial scouting party. They will probably send their heavy hitters," Mical answered as He rearmed the booby traps in the security panels of each room they passed by. The whole place would be a death trap now.

Valia wasn't listening to any of this. She immediately directed Visas and Kreia to a chokepoint just outside the security center, Force powers only. The Rookie went with her into the security center itself along with Mical. Bao-Dur, who had been apparently putting together some IED's in his spare time, attached explosives to the ceiling with a motion sensitive detonator for the Sith's inevitable breach.

"All in all though, I would not expect them to actually succeed with a seige. These traps are old, but they still work. The entire place is meant to be a friend to inhabitant's and a foe to intruders," Mical added as he directed the security cameras in the hanger bay to focus on who was attempting to breach.

He spotted a walking, deformed horror and grew immediately concerned.

"Uh, Valia?" he called out. "Who the hell is THAT?"

Valia went over to the view screen.

"Sion," she said, saying his name as though it were a curse.

Sion looked up into the camera, smiled grimly and struck it with his lightsaber. The screen turned to static.

"Prick," Mical muttered.

Valia pulled out her Jedi Katana, in anticipation-and immediately dropped it as a sudden and unexpected pain seized her right hand. The entire hand seized up.

The pain shot up into her shoulder and Valia winced in pain as she tried to determine the problem as she massaged her arm. The pain would not abate, however.

"Mical! Something's wrong with me," Valia hissed, clutching her arm.

Mical immediately went over to her and examined it. He pinched her shoulder, and she winced again.

He pursed his lips, and pulled a hypo from his pocket, injecting it into her. The pain ceased.

"That should kill the pain for a moment," Mical said. He immediately went back to the security terminal.

That was strange, Valia thought, examining her hand. Distantly, she heard the blasts of of the sealed doors to the hanger bay being breached. The facility's turrets instantly started firing at the intruders.

Mical watched with distant enthusiasm as a Sith Assassin was felled by a poison dart hidden in one of the paintings. Hidden flak guns were triggered in the ceiling, blowing the heads off a number of Sion's minions. Mines exploded in the dining room. Giant pendulum axes swung out of their hiding place and bisected others. Within moments, a force of fifty was reduced to nothing.

It didn't reduce Sion, however. The abomination charged through the hail of turret fire and hidden traps, overcoming them as though he was being hit with mere flashlights.

"Valia, I don't want to alarm you, but...he's going to make it if this continues," Mical said grimly.

"I'll handle it," Valia said. She started for the exit...and dropped to her left knee as pain lanced up her right leg.

"I think I'll handle it then," Mical said in curt fashion, giving her another injection from his hypo as he walked by. He left the security center and sealed it behind him with the Force, cracking his knuckles in anticipation. As he walked by Kreia and Visas he said, "Don't do anything until I give the signal. When I say, 'Now', Force push the bastard with all you've got."

Kreia and Visas nodded, readying themselves. They hid themselves behind the entryway while Mical continued walking forward into the ruined connecting hall where Sion waited, lightsaber active.

Mical bowed. "Welcome to my humble abode, Master...Sion, isn't it?"

"I see the Exile has added another to her cadre," Sion noted.

"I'm afraid so. Might I ask why you've taken time out of your busy schedule to do me the honor of this visit?" Mical asked politely, hands behind his back.

Sion pointed his lightsaber at Mical. "You know well why I am here. I seek the Exile's head. It curious she has not come out to answer my challenge herself. Pray tell, is she weak?" he finished with a grin.

Mical's face was impassive. "Not every situation requires Valia to personally handle refuse. I deemed myself more than adequate. By the way, that was an impressive gauntlet you ran-"

"No more small talk. The Exile. Now. Or I will show you the true power of the Dark Side," Sion demanded.

Mical chuckled lightly. "Oh, I know something," he began, raising his hands, "about the power of the Dark Side..."

Sion barely managed to block the burst of orange lightning from Mical with his lightsaber. Sion looked and noticed that Mical's eyes had turned a poisonous sulfur color.

Sion started to advance-until his lightsaber simply shorted out from the intensity of the barrage. The lightning slammed into the walking corpse of a man full force, searing already charred flesh blacker.

Mical lifted Sion up telekinetically and slammed him hard into the floor multiple times. Then he slammed him into the ceiling an equal number of times.

"Your feeble skills are an embarrassment," Mical hissed as Sion struggled out of the Force grip Mical used to pin him to the ground. He kicked him in the ribs before shocking him again. "The fact that you would dare come here-wreck MY home-you are barely more than a second rate thug with a lightsaber, distinguished only by your stubbornness towards dying." Mical used the Force grip to lift him up, twisting his limbs in odd places as he snapped what was left of Sion's back, electrocuting him again as he did so.

Mical removed a hypo from his breast pocket. He injected Sion's neck with it.

"I wonder if that corpse brain of yours is affected by this stuff," Mical wondered as Sion began twitching involuntarily.

"What...did you give me?" Sion asked, his speech slurring.

"A little known compound. Nobody except the Jedi ever really had a use for it. It's called Lysurgic Acid Diethylamide. Not that you'll remember or care, the words are probably too big for you to remember. Now if you don't mind," Mical finished, "It's time for you to get the frak out of my home. NOW!"

Kreia and Visas appeared from their hiding place, hands raised in anticipation.

Mical leapt back, hitting Darth Sion with a Force pulse just as the other two did the same.

Sion's body reacted as though it had been shot out of cannon. He flew spectacularly past all the rooms he had charged through, obliterating any obstacle he ran into, until finally flying completely out of the hanger bay into the canyon below.

Mical straightened his brown vest and smoothed his hair back.

"And that, ladies," he began, eyes returning to their regular blue. "Is why Sith Lords are our specialty."

"Remind me never to piss you off, Blondie," Atton noted dryly when he learned the story from Valia. The security measures had been shut off except for the ones in the hanger, which was now on lockdown. The group had brought provisions off the ship and had set up shop in another dining area of the complex, Paintings lined the circular room and table with fine silverware was set up for everyone.

"Shouldn't we be getting out of here?" Vash asked as she ate up an energy bar. "What if that...thing comes back?"

"He's in no condition, trust me. I gave him enough of that poison that he won't know his ass from a hole in the wall for days. That and I twisted him into a pretzel."

"But how do we defend this place?" Bastila asked, downing a glass of water.

"We don't. I'm ostensibly still working for the Jal-Shey. I'll just give them a call. They'll move everything out of here," Mical assured as he sat down at the long rectangular table with everyone else, pouring himself some wine from the family cellar. He passed the wine bottle down. Atton gladly poured himself a little, and even Kreia didn't seem to mind the prospect when she poured herself a whole glass, irking Visas, who had to get up and head down to the cellar to get more for everyone else.

"So, Lonna," Valia began, nursing a cup of hot tea. "What brought you to Korriban?"

"I had run out of leads. Jedi are still vanishing. There were barely a hundred left still loyal to the high council by the war's end. In desperation, I decided to resort to the underground, trying to figure which faction of Sith we were dealing with. One contact there was certain the Sith Philosophers were involved, and that he had heard reports of recent activity on Korriban. I got the coordinates and decided to try my luck here, searching," Vash answered sighing.

"How did you end up in the training simulator?" Mical asked.

"A stupid moment on my part. I was wandering. Had no plan. The Force was not with me this day. Next thing I know, I hit one power button and suddenly I'm fending off Jolee Bindo's old black ops team, one by one. Hell, I even fought YOU, at one point, Kreia."

"Did you? Interesting. How faithful was the simulation?" Kreia asked, sipping her wine.

"You nearly gutted me twice."

"That sounds like me at twenty, alright," Kreia replied sarcastically.

"Thanks, though. If you guys hadn't come along when you did..."

"Have you found anything that could help us?" Valia asked.

Vash shook her head. "I'm still trying to come down off the adrenaline. I didn't find anything that could help. This place hasn't been inhabited in years."

"You weren't looking in the right place," Mical added, finishing his wine. "There's a whole treasure trove here that's hidden unless you know where to look."

"I'm sorry, but go back a bit. Did you say 'Jolee's black ops team'?" Bastila asked, prompted by the piece of Revan in her. "He was nothing but a disillusioned hermit when I met him."

"How do you think he got like that?" Kreia asked rhetorically. "Vash is telling the truth."

Bastila blinked. "Has the whole galaxy gone insane? How come I didn't know any of this? He never said a word! Not one word!"

"The galaxy, in case you didn't notice, hasn't exactly been right in the head for years now. I mean, just look at me," Bao-Dur spoke in a rare lucid moment as he picked up a roach he spotted and ate it. "I like roaches, by the way."

Vash stared at him. "What's wrong with you?"

"Everything," the rest of the group said at the same time.

"So," Mical asked. "Anyone feel up for a tour?"

"How's that going to help?" Vash asked.

"We really have little more we can do except for securing this place for the Jal-Shey. It might also give you some sort of insight into who you are after. Plus, I just like showing my stuff off."

"And here it is," Mical said when the entire group had followed him into the library. He pulled off a dusty old tome and opened it in the middle. A button had been hidden inside. He pressed it and the book case parted.

"Once more confirming the stereotype that every evil lair needs an even more evil lair hiding in it. Thanks a lot, Mother," Mical said in a dry, humorless tone.

The group headed into the darkness beyond.

They were in the dark a moment, before overhead spotlights turned on, shining on armored robes fixed behind transparent display cases. It was the bone white masks that gave away the fact they had belonged to Sith Philosophers however. behind those were display cases containing lightsabers.

Over head the rows of display cases was a banner that read in large, black letters: THE WAR WILL NEVER END UNTIL PHILOSOPHERS BECOME SITH OR SITH BECOME PHILOSOPHERS.

"The overriding motto of Darth Socratus," Mical explained, walking forward.

"I'm a little new to the whole 'Sith Philosopher' thing. Would somebody care to fill me in-oh, wait never mind," she said, as the piece of Revan in her informed her of the pertinent information.

Mical stopped at the first set of display cases. One case contained a white armor Valia was all too familiar with, having watched it's owner burn to death many years ago in it. But this was pristine. Must have be a replica, and a faithful one at that.

"Darth Kashtu was dangerous in her own right, but she would have quickly failed in her mission had she not recruited others to her vision of a Sith Republic and the democratization of Force powers," Mical gestured to the white armor. "All those whose armor you see here have been confirmed dead or MIA. Darth Ptolemus and Dioginus are, as of this date, the only ones still known to have escaped the Order's wrath." He walked to the display case next to it, which featured a simple, almost toga-like black robe.

"Darth Dioginus. A failed member of of a sect of Jedi that was fanatical about living in poverty. They were also enthusiasts of starving and whipping themselves to achieve enlightenment. Believed in defacing and challenging the coin of tradition. Was considered the cynic of the group."

"Who was this?" Bastila asked, pointing to a set of blood red robes with a number of mathematical equations in white silk etched into the fabric.

"Oh, that was Darth Pythagrus. A failed Jedi Padawan. They realized too late he was plagued by severe Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. Father told me he drove himself insane by trying to count to infinity while deviding by zero. Believed all things in the universe, thought, emotions, muscle movement, the number of atoms that make up a person, were mathematically predictable and quantifiable. Understandably, he was obsessed with numbers, particularly those that were divisible by three. Kashtu snatched him away from the Jedi Agricultural Corps. He was her engineer and computer specialist, made all her gadgets," Mical answered.

Mical then looked at a particularly skimpy excuse for a "robe".

"Of course, you've already met Darth Sangraal, Master Vash, so we don't need to cover her again," Mical added. "Everyone on display here either met their end at the hand of Jolee or a member of his team or just plain disappeared. They were all very dangerous men and women in their day. It was only through sheer desperation the Order prevailed, as almost all of them were true believers. I can attest to you, Master Vash, that if any of them remain, they will struggle to their dying breath to make their goals come true. They are that dedicated. And if Darth Ptolemus is behind much of what is going on, he'll rear his ugly head when we are at our weakest. When we least expect it," Mical finished.

As the group stared at all that remained of the terrible legacy, each felt a mortal chill go up their spine. An omen.

The Rookie was still exploring after everyone had left the museum to head back up to the security section. She despised the Sith to be sure, but at the same time, she felt a great intellectual curiosity. Her father had always said that with her curiosity, she should be a historian instead of a warrior. It had taken her years to figure out that was not a chastisement.

Her eyes fell on a particular lightsaber. It was relatively simple, but the hilt had a fine black polish with a silver emitter. There were multiple dial settings on one side."

"See something you like?"

The Rookie jumped at the voice behind her, turning to find Mical looking at her intently.

"I-I just noticed this lightsaber," the Rookie answered.

He stared at it. "That was Darth Thrasyllus' lightsaber. I kept it after she was defeated on Dantooine. Dropped it off here during a mission. Felt it belonged here."

"Who was she?"

"No one knows. Her identity was never discovered. All I know for certain is that she met her end in the Mandalorian wars. Here, would you like to take a look at it?"

The Rookie squirmed a bit, biting her lip. "Are you sure this is wise. It could be tainted."

"No, it's not tainted I assure you. There's no Dark Side in that weapon," he sighed, looking very old for a second. "All it is, is a sad reminder of broken dreams and the people who broke themselves on them. Just like everything else in this place." He waved his hand and the transparent display opened up at the front, a side of the case sliding upward.

The Rookie pulled the weapon off the rest.

"Here, you turn it on like this," Mical hit the activation plate.

A blade of dark blue hissed out of the weapon. The Rookie stood, transfixed, stepping back, and giving a few practice swishes. It crackled in the air.

"They once said the lightsaber was an elegant weapon for a more civilized age. There are days I wished I still believed that," Mical said.

The Rookie shut the weapon off. "Do you...ever wonder what it would be like if you followed in your parents footsteps?"

Mical, for some reason, looked alarmed. "What do you mean?" he asked with a frown.

"Do you ever wonder what it would be like if you had become a Sith like your parents?"

Mical seemed to relax, but only a bit. The Rookie did not notice any of this.

"I...have occasionally wondered, yes. All children do that though. Wondering what might have been..." he trailed off. "But I made my decision many years ago. The Sith Philosophers hold nothing but tragedy for me. All of them, giving their lives one after another for a hope only a few could envision fully. A band of sad dreamers, made all the more tragic when one takes into account that most of the members, with few exceptions, loved the Jedi Order."

The Rookie's eyes widened. It had been like saying two plus two equals five.

"Where do you think Kashtu got most of her recruits from? Failures who desperately wished to be otherwise, or people who simply wanted change. It was damned loss of life. And they all believed in the cause, right to the very moment they were stabbed through the back by Jolee, consumed by Dimmak, or choked by Kreia. Some would call me a traitor...but I know a lost cause when I see one."

"But where does that leave the Jedi?" the Rookie asked.

Mical sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He leaned slightly against a display.

"In the same boat. The Sith Philosophers died because they wanted change, and now the Jedi are dying out because they didn't want to change. They played the politics game and lost. Unlike the Philosophers though, there may still be a chance for the order if enough of the old guard died off so a less stubborn new generation could take hold. I hope I'm right, because it would be a sad thing if an organization dedicated solely to fighting for the good of all were to suddenly vanish into the wind. Even Darth Sangraal thought so, and she killed more Jedi than any other Philosopher ever did."

"I see," the Rookie replied quizzically, thinking a moment.

"What you have told me is...difficult to digest. For the longest time, I hated any who called themselves Sith. It was not a healthy mindset."

Mical stared, not seeing where this was going. "May I ask what the Sith did?"

"They-Darth Revan killed my father and invaded my homeworld. He was fast, but he was not fast enough. When he died, it was the only time I truly wish I knew how to use the Force...so I could find her and kill her where she stood. But now that you have said all this to me I-am I supposed to believe Darth Revan felt she was in the right?"

"Most Sith will justify anything," Mical said flatly. "For the most part, Revan was no different. The Philosophers took the long view also. Sometimes though...even the most hardcore Sith occasionally questions their actions. What Revan did was wrong. That is the bottom line. Should you re-examine your perception of her? I can't honestly answer it, and I can't honestly provide a neat and tidy answer to the quandary you and I have dug ourselves into with our musings. Sometimes there is no solution. Some things are just meant to fall apart. All I can say is play it by ear, and reach your own conclusions."

The Rookie nodded. She then started to put the lightsaber back.

"You can keep it," he said quickly.

"I-I don't know if I should. It's a Sith lightsaber..."

"It only has that meaning if you describe it as such. Other than that, it's just a weapon like any other. Besides, It's mine to give away, and it beats letting it sit here, forgotten."

The Rookie stared at it a moment before slowly, uneasily clipping it to her belt.

"That wasn't so hard, now was it? You can stay in here a few more minutes, I have to return to the security center and transmit my findings. After that, off you go.

The Rookie managed a rare smile and nodded. Mical smiled back and left.

She walked through the rows of cases, examining whatever struck her when she heard something.

_Brianna._

The Rookie's head snapped around, looking for the source.

_Brianna._

"Who's there?" she asked.

_Trust your feelings and find me._

A cold knot twisted the Rookie's stomach. She ventured to the back of the displays, where the cold grew stronger. Her scholarly interest had become morbid curiosity.

_Brianna. Come to me._

"Where are you? Who is there?" she asked.

_Behind you._

The Rookie turned behind her and spotted a small red pyramid sitting behind a display case. It glowed softly. It was a holocron, like the one she had seen Atris examine within her deepest chambers.

The Rookie wasn't quite sure how, but her perception whenever she focused on the thing seemed to be myopic, twisting her senses as though she had just shot up on deathsticks.

_Your potential is great. Long have I waited for one such as you to continue the fight, _the voice from the holocron said, now distinctly female, and speaking in an accent now forever burned into the Rookie's memory.

"You're-You're Sangraal's holocron, aren't you?" she accused.

_Clever girl. Tell me, 'Rookie'...do you wish to discover the inner mysteries of the Force?_

"I already have a teacher," the Rookie affirmed.

_I'm sure she is a good one, and she well teach you well. But I can get you where you want to be faster._

"You have nothing to offer me, Sith."

_Oh, but I do. Already you break your oaths, already you do not notice how comfortable the Sith Lightsaber you carry feels on your belt. You seek to know the Force, but what good is it unless one takes a larger view?_

A part of the Rookie told her she should take a deep breath and flee from this place and never return. But her curiosity seemed to weld her in place.

_I can teach you mysteries your master does not know. You want to help your master, don't you? The power passion gives you, the wisdom to know when to utilize it. Give me just a few weeks with you and you will be more than a match for anyone your crew encounters. You can contribute to the recovery of the Galaxy. All you need do is place your faith in the Dark Side, let it guide you._

"Never!" the Rookie cried, backing away.

_Okay, no Dark Side. Not everyone is cut out for that to tell the truth. But you have so much you can learn and I have so much I can teach._

"I don't have to use the Dark Side?"

_No. Cross my heart. If at any point you feel I am lying to you, feel free to destroy me. Take me out as a trial basis._

Every instinct told her to run, every nightmare she had ever had about red lightsabers told her this was the absolute worst idea she had ever contemplated.

But yet...none of that seemed to matter. She had already broken her oath, what was the harm in stepping on the broken pieces?

And if Valia found out...well...Valia didn't have a squeaky clean track record. She would be in no position to judge her decision. She had done worse already.

"How do I get you out of there?" the Rookie asked.

_Trust your instincts._

"What does that mean?"

_If you cannot figure some things out for yourself, then what is the point of me offering you anything?_

"Err...okay. Trust my instincts," the Rookie scratched her head.

After a moment, she mimicked the motion Mical had used to unlock the case to her new lightsaber.

It slid open like magic.

"I did it!" she exclaimed.

_Excellant. Quickly, hide me in your robe. They will not detect me unless I wish it._

The Rookie did so and was suddenly running before she was any later. As she ran by a case containing a mirror, she noticed her entire forehead was damp with sweat. She quickly wiped her head with her arm and took a few deep breaths.

_You must learn to control your emotions if you are to succeed._

The Rookie came back from the museum level of the complex, walking stiffly, not acknowledging Valia as she passed by and walked straight into the ship. Valia stared at her as she walked by. She took one look at the echani woman's walk and realized her new charge had been shaken by something.

No matter, Valia thought. They were on a schedule. The Jal-Shey would be along soon and as soon as they figured out where to drop Vash off, the mission would be back on track. Besides, she could always ask later.

She straightened her robe and ventured back onto the Hawk. Within seconds it lifted off and left Mical's home in the mountain.


	28. Katarr

The Ebon Hawk had just left the atmosphere of Korriban when the entire ship was rocked.

Atton was nearly thrown out of the pilot seat along with Bastila.

"What the hell?!" Bastila exclaimed, helping Atton up.

"Tractor beam!" Atton yelled. "We're getting pulled up!"

"Is it the Sith?" Valia asked, running into the cockpit.

Atton checked the sensors.

"No. They're some sort of 'flying wing' type craft. Seems to be based on heavily modified Naboo designs."

No sooner than Atton finished saying this then Visas ran into the cockpit.

"You said flying wing?" she asked.

"Yeah, why?" Atton replied.

Visas' lips pursed.

"Do nothing. Do what they say. I don't think we're in trouble," Visas spoke after a few seconds.

"Why? You know these guys?" Valia rasped.

"I...might," was all she could say.

"Heads up! We're being brought into the hanger bay!" Atton exclaimed.

Valia peered into the interior of the gunmetal-grey Wing-craft's hanger, brightly lit and filled with men and women wearing black and white striped t-shirts and black trousers and boots. Lightsabers were clipped prominently to shoulder holsters.

The thing that caught Valia's eye was the fact that all were wearing dark, maroon colored blindfolds.

"It is as I suspected," Visas said. "Do nothing. We are in no danger as long as we cooperate. They are Miralukans."

Valia nodded and readied herself. Kreia was waiting with her arms folded just outside the security room

"And so the plot thickens," Kreia noted dryly as Valia walked past.

Valia felt the ship rumble as it touched down. The Miralukan announced themselves not soon after.

"Attention occupants! This is the Miralukan General Security Taskforce. You are to all come out with your hands up or we will open fire! If you understand, flash the ship's searchlights once," a monotone male voice called out.

Valia ordered Atton to do so. The front of the Hawk lit up for a second before cutting off.

"Good. Proceed out the exit ramp in an orderly fashion. You have three minutes to comply."

Panic gripped the Rookie as she tried to figure out where to hide her little souvenir from Korriban.

_You will have to take me with you, _the Holocron spoke in her mind.

"That's insane! I'd be discovered for sure!"

_Not unless you persuade them that your lightsaber is all you have. You must craft an insistence in your mind that all you have is your lightsaber and project that onto your target._

"How do I do that?"

_Patience. Focus your will into that one lie. Grip it like it is your tether to the world of the living. At this stage, it will not stand up to close inspection by a Veteran telepath, but it will stall them for a moment._

"And if that doesn't work?"

_Figure it out. Prove that you are worthy of the knowledge you seek. I cannot hold your hand._

The Rookie groaned in exasperation.

"Fine," she snapped, concealing the device and projecting all her focus for the lie of her life.

The entire crew of the Hawk came out with their hands up. Valia could feel a dozen rifles trained on them, to conceal them in a deadly web of trajectories none of them would survive if they got out of line.

"Are we under arrest?" Valia asked, surveying the sterile white hanger with intensely bright overhead lights.

One Miralukan stepped forward. He was young with slightly bronzed skin, sporting a thin goatee and a good amount of curly black hair . His blindfold tied tight to his head.

"No. Truth be told, we aren't after you. We wanted to speak to your friend here-" the man replied, gesturing to Visas. He then stepped to her.

"_Aasalaamu Aleikum," _he said.

Visas didn't miss a beat. "_Wa-Aleikum Aasalaam."_

The pair chatted for a few moments in their language, The man seemed to grow perturbed until he finally seemed to relent to something before walking away.

"Be prepared to go to hyperspace on my command," he announced to his crew, before exiting the hanger by turbolift.

"What's he want?" Atton asked.

"They are taking us to Katarr. It seems I am wanted for questioning," Visas answered.

The crew had been stripped of weapons and each were put in an individual detention cell with an active force field. It was not an uncomfortable cell, but reminded you that you were a prisoner never the less. all the cells were adjacent to one another. the rest of the area they were in had no lights shining, just on them.

"Fourth time I've been in a cell within the span of a month," Atton griped. "Real smart, Atton, following the one-eyed psychopath."

"Wasn't Katarr destroyed?" Bastila asked.

"Shan's right, for once. We're missing something. Are you sure the entire planet was destroyed?" Valia asked Visas.

"Nothing could have survived the devastation," Visas reaffirmed.

"So why are we going there?" Vash asked

"I suspect the Seer may be her people's only lead as to what happened. They must have spent months tracking you," Kreia mused.

"So how come we're along for the ride? Why'd they take you AND us?" Atton asked.

"I told them to, or I would not speak. Besides, you may have information they find useful," Visas answered.

An announcement overhead disrupted conversation.

"Curfew is in effect. Lights out." The overhead lights shut off and the force fields for each cell were covered by a privacy partition.

"I guess this is what they mean when they say 'You aren't under arrest'. We get privacy. Hate to think what would happen if we actually pissed 'em off," Atton wondered as he flopped onto his cot. "That said, I've been in worse jails..."

The Rookie waited a moment, making sure she could not be seen before taking out the holocron. It's ruddy red light glowed gently in the near darkness.

_Good, Brianna. You did excellently hiding me. The Miralukans have always been a a fearful people. Much like the Jedi. Unwilling to embrace a larger view, _the holocron whispered.

"They simply seem cautious."

_You pronounce a name one way, I pronounce it another._

The Holocron glowed brighter and a gentle beam of light ushered from the top of the tiny pyramid, creating a life size, full color recreation of Darth Sangraal. The Rookie found it hard not to tense up, given the recent experience she had with just a simulation. The Sith Lord's blood red eyes and almost malicious beauty seem to rake the Echani over before smiling in satisfaction with her new charge. The sparsely attired, caramel skinned, loin cloth and top wearing Sith Lord took a seat next to the Rookie, who winced and scooted a few inches away

"You'll do. You'll definately do. Now, my...curious friend, the first lesson I would have you learn is...patience."

"For?"

"All in good time," the holocron gatekeeper whispered. "If you truly wish to be a boon to your team, the greatest gift you can offer them is a steady, unimpulsive mindset. You must think before you act. Now, mind you, impulse has its place-but impulse can only take you so far. Now, throw a punch at me as best you can in this limited space."

The Rookie did as she asked, and found herself gasping in pain as Sangraal twisted the fist and got her into an arm lock.

"But...you aren't real," the Rookie whispered.

"I'm as real as you allow me to be," Sangraal replied. "You just threw the punch without thinking. You gave no thought to where best to strike, you simply let fly and prayed for the best."

"Valia says thinking too much ruins your ability to react," the Rookie gasped.

"I'm sorry, but I thought I was teaching you at the moment, not Valia. You can relearn whatever it is she has to say when you are done with me, but when you are with me, there is consideration of no other. Am I clear?" Sangraal asked, tightening her grip on the arm lock for emphasis.

"Crystal," the Rookie breathed, not remembering what had made her pick up Sangraal's holocron to begin with.

"Good. Sorry if I get carried away. I understand when a student has questions so long as they are not throwing in complaints when they ask. That gets me irritated. I didn't hurt your arm did I?" she asked.

The Rookie rubbed her arm. "It'll be fine."

"Good. I think the lesson shall end tonight. How about a small bit of homework."

"I'm listening."

"Come back with an example of how patience can best be utilized to turn a situation to your favor. It can be anything, but it must be done by you and must take great ability."

"If I am unsuccessful?"

"Then you and I have nothing further to discuss," Sangraal replied flatly. Her image derezzed into non-existence, the last thing to fade being her terrible red eyes.

The Rookie breathed a sigh of relief before cursing herself for her stupidity.

What was she thinking?! How could she be doing something this insanely stupid? Snatching a Sith holocron, accepting it's offer of assistance...if she had not been walking a dark path then she certainly was now.

But why?

The first thing to cross her mind was that perhaps the Holocron was subtly influencing her somehow with the Dark Side. She quickly discounted it, though.

That holocron had persuaded her to take it because she wanted to be persuaded. There were so many things about this new world she had taken a few steps into that having Valia show her only a few token things was becoming insufficient. And besides, hadn't she already said she wasn't training the Rookie as a new apprentice?

So what was the harm?

And then there was the fact that Sith had killed her father-why was she trying to learn anything from them.

The answer that came to her in that instant was both infuriatingly simple and simply infuriating.

She wanted to understand that mindset, and this may be the only chance she had to understand the kind of mindset where the ends justified the means. The Rookie desperately hoped she wasn't lying to herself, hoped that some good could be gleaned from this experience and that she wasn't just turning into another statistic.

Katarr.

"I-I do not understand..." Visas whispered, staring at the sight.

"Katarr, eh? Doesn't look all that devastated to me," Atton remarked dryly.

"And yet another blow to the canon story is delivered," Bao-Dur remarked. "I still like roaches, by the way."

"So this is Katarr, eh?" Valia rasped. "Nice place."

Katarr was a giant cluster of stone buildings, all circular, all topped with domes or surrounded by spires, and covered in a bronze material that would have glowed in even the faintest light. The streets were covered in fine, white sand, and some form of singing or wailing song seemed to be coming from everywhere. In the far off distance, Valia could spot a number of gardens hanging off the highest points of the buildings. People hurried busily through the streets, others behind stands hawking various wears or foods.

In short, there were people. Lots of people. Lots of Miralukans.

"This-everyone was dead when I was last here!" Visas nearly shouted as she was led off the Miralukan cruiser. "Everyone! Men! Women! Children! Old! Young! All dead."

"The devastation to Katarr was not as final as you were led to believe," the Miralukan that had spoken to all of them earlier added nonchalantly.

"Then what is going on here!" Visas demanded as she and the others were led from the open air landing pad to the a security checkpoint. The Miralukans at the checkpoint, who wore the same type of outfit as the groups escorts, waved them on through after the lead Miralukan flashed an ID of some sort, a card with a number of raised dots on it, which the Miralukans at the checkpoint felt with their fingertips before giving them the OK.

"The attack killed over forty thousand people. Men and women dropping dead in the streets," their escort explained as he expertly led them through a crowd of civilians wearing garb that was similar to Visas' own clothing. "Pilots on planetary travel missions fell dead in the cockpit. The streets were filled with a horrific silence. The children were the worst, of course, silent at their school desks, their prayer mats, dead alongside their families. When the first response came it was a virtual dead zone. We Miralukan's use the Force for our natural sight, so the vast disruption of its delicate patterns damaged some people's sight. Some went into a coma. We only found a few survivors in our new necropolis, and they were all left handed. Tell me, Visas Marr, are you left handed?"

"I...yes, I am," Visas replied, her voice dropping to a whisper.

"A stroke of fortune for you, though considering the circumstances, it seems more like damnation, yes?"

"It...it was," Visas answered, trying to force away the memories of a dead city with bodies strewn everywhere.

"We scratched out heads trying to figure out what could have caused it. It was not a chemical attack. We found no traces of such, though that could have been the mark of an expert. It was not biological, for if it had been, how could such a lethal disease with a one hundred percent mortality rate not spread like wildfire? The answer of course, could only have been a Force related attack. But why? And then we found our answer," the man went on, stopping at a domed temple of sorts and punching in a code on the door pad that made the doors slide open with a pleasant chime. The group walked in and were surrounded by a horde of men and women working computer terminals and armed guards, each with at least two lightsabers. Their escort continued to lead them past this hive of activity to what was apparently a morgue.

"A conclave of Jedi had come here, looking for temporary asylum. At least, that was what we gathered since Jedi are not normally allowed on Miralukan worlds, and those few Miralukans who become Jedi are forbidden to return. A Jedi Investigator was the one who arranged for the smuggling of said Jedi. This Jedi knew local customs and was fluent in the language. We have deduced that you were this investigator, based on what logs we recovered, Visas Marr."

Visas was silent, her head hung down in shame. She said nothing, but that simply confirmed the Escort's suspicions all the more.

"Visas, while I cannot say the Clerics of Alpherides approve of the fact you broke our laws and violated our customs, They also understand that you did not intend for this to happen. They have therefore given you an opportunity to redeem yourself. Tell us what you know of the attack. How was it done?"

Visas was silent for another thirty seconds before she talked.

"He came on a wrecked ship. It was barely serviceable. It was an old ship from the Mandalorian wars, It's registry ID was the Ravager. It descended through the clouds and he spoke..."

"Spoke? Who spoke?" the Escort asked.

"He...it...I don't know. He has no name than what others have given him. He wears a Miralukan Death Mask."

The Escort frowned at this. "A Sith Philosopher, perhaps a castoff. It does not fit their usual M.O."

"Who cares what he was? It is what he IS-that is important," Visas scoffed angrily. "The speech-it left my body cold in places I did not think were possible. I collapsed as I felt the screaming of his victims as their life tore from their bodies. I came to-and I SWEAR that the whole world around me felt dead. And my sight has not been the same since."

"You were at the epicenter of the attack. Of course everything would have felt dead. Your range of sensation had been badly reduced. And where did you go after this attack?"

There was no point in lying.

"He...it...took me," Visas answered. "What was I going to do? Say no? I would have joined his victims in oblivion."

"No one is criticizing your decision," the Escort placated. "I have only one more question for now...can you identify these two? We've had them in cryo for a while now."

He punched in a command at a nearby terminal and two morgue slabs slid open.

Valia, Vash, and Bastila grimaced.

It was Zhar and Vandar.

"Dammit," Vash cursed. "This is bad. With Vandar gone, a major part of the Old Guards have died. Any remaining masters will become more important than ever."

Valia looked with sorrow on Vandar.

"It's always the good ones who go first, and the damned that are last," Valia rasped. She flicked back her dark hair and silently whispered some well wishes, on both the bodies.

"Come," the Escort instructed. "We have made accommodations."

"I'm sure you have," Vash replied, throwing a dark look at the Escort.

The entire group were put into a nearby hotel in the heart of the city under armed guard. They were free to move about the hotel itself, as it had been cleared specifically for that purpose, but they were forbidden from leaving or interacting with the locals. It was a small, unimpressive four story domed building with balconies on all sides. Small potted plants seemed to dominate the Miralukan's idea of decoration.

Kreia had just sat down in a small rocking chair when Valia walked in.

She said nothing until she sat down.

"Visas seems rather shaken up," Valia started.

"I suspect you would be also, Exile, if suddenly everything you cared about was taken from you, driving you to despair...only to find it was you who ran away, not the rest of the Galaxy."

Valia looked at her with a sharp glare. "You have no ear for irony, do you, old woman?"

"I am old, Exile, and marveling at the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune is a young woman's game. Always has been."

"Huh...how do I talk to her about it? About this?"

"My advice, let her work it out on her own. Some conclusions are best reached on one's own, as you can surely attest."

"No arguments there," Valia was silent for a moment. A long moment.

Finally, looking to break the unease of the silence that occupied the pair when no thinly veiled insults were being slung at one another, Kreia let out a long sigh and spoke, clasping her knee.

"If you truly feel the need to press the issue with her, I would suggest relating a story from your own past. Perhaps that would make her open up more. Though why you bother to associate with the 'help' is frankly beyond me."

"I have no need of slaves, Kreia."

"Nor I. But even a slave proves occasionally convenient when making a bigger play."

"Is that all the people in this galaxy are to you Kreia? One giant board of Dejarik?"

"I could consider them a board game of Alderaanian Checkers, but at that point the whole board game analogy loses the sophistication and just reminds me what a schutta I turned out to be," Kreia remarked candidly. "You know what I learned about people, Exile? Almost all of them are selfish, not willing to look beyond themselves. THIS is why I hold most ordinary people in contempt...their mortal ambitions and aspirations are, for the most part, not even worth the napkin they could write them down on."

"Those 'mortals' got along just fine without the Order before we screwed everything up. If we have the nerve to say it is our duty to protect people, than we had better not despise them. Look what happened. The Republic has tired of us because we couldn't get our act together."

Kreia snorted contemptuously at this. "I'll let you in on a little secret, Child of Kashtu: Familiarity breeds contempt."

Valia eyed the old woman. "Explain yourself."

"Even if there had not been all these wars they would have tried to get rid of us eventually. Why, you ask? Before I answer, ask yourself something else: What use has a galaxy spanning government for a sect of outdated monks who just never seemed to grow out of this phase where they thought the Force could solve everybody's problems? You want to know the answer?"

Valia folded her arms. "I'm game."

"The answer is this: as long as we have plasma swords and can choke people's minds...AND we're willing to fight for them, what do they care what we believe? We have been a useful tool to their expansion, but our usefulness has just expired, and only now are all Jedi truly becoming aware of how alone in the Galaxy they have always been...or always will be."

"And it just amuses the hell out of you, doesn't it?" Valia asked, scowling.

Kreia sighed and leaned back in her chair.

"Amusing? On some level, but only at the lowest of levels, where the nihilism that is in all of us to some degree resides. But the higher levels...have never found it anything less than the most bitter of pills to swallow," Kreia replied glumly. "I tire of this. Leave me, Exile."

Valia stared a moment, nodded and left Kreia's room, who closed her eyes and tried not to recall all the people she now knew to be dead, by her hand, or someone else's.

The Rookie had been staring at the spider on the corner of the wall for more than an hour, memorizing it's movements. Ordinarily, she would have stomped on it the instant she first caught site of it, but the rational part of her told her this might be the test she could use to continue proving herself to the ill advised tutoring from Darth Sangraal.

She watched the spider delicately climb up and weave it's web. It was not a small one, either; it had a body as large as her thumb.

She stared at it, memorizing it's blind spots, until she felt the sweat of concentration sting her eyes. And still she stared.

And then, suddenly, on pure intuition, she slowly, carefully reached forward and gently took hold of the Spider, positioning it between her fingers in such a way so that it could neither bite, nor squirm out of her hand. She slowly examined its frightened eyes before granting the poor thing a reprieve in gratitude for helping her and gently placed it on the balcony outside her room, where it scampered for its life.

She locked the door to her room, got up off her bed and slowly removed the holocron from its hiding place in her robes.

The avatar of Darth Sangraal appeared. "Have you done as I asked?"

The Rookie described what happened. After a few moments of contemplation, Darth Sangraal nodded.

"Impressive. Most impressive. You overcame your instincts and thought the situation down to the last detail. Good. But more is required now. Our second lesson shall be will. Do you see the glass on the desk next to your bed? Pick it up."

The Rookie did so.

"Now, why did you pick the glass up?" Sangraal asked.

"Because you told me to."

"Did any question run through your mind as to why I would ask you to do this?"

"Not really, no."

Darth Sangraal gave a smile. "Not the best example of exercising one's will over others, but it will do. Will is what drives everything in the universe, nothing can be accomplished without the will. Remember that. It is will to commit to an action that determines who you are. Your next home work assignment shall be to exercise your will over someone to make them act in a manner they normally would not. Pure will, however, will not guarantee success. You must combine your second lesson with your first: Patience. Study the person you wish to influence. Learn likes, dislikes, and then exercise your will in a way that gets past those natural barricades."

The Rookie eyed her. "Forgive me, but that seems...incredibly manipulative."

The avatar rolled her terrible red eyes. "Hello? Dark Lord of The Sith here? Have you been paying attention?"

The Rookie sighed. "Point taken. Should my influence have some positive outcome?"

"It depends on what you mean by 'positive'."

"Positive for both me and the target? Him only? Me only?"

Again, Darth Sangraal rolled her eyes. "If I was training a regular apprentice, the default answer would always be 'for you'. But not so much so that your prospective target cannot be utilized in the future. However, since you seem to be stubbornly set on calling every set of dialogue we are having as everything else except 'Typical bickering between Master and Apprentice', My suggestion to you is if you truly wish to avoid my evil little Sith clutches, then you set your goal to something benefitting more than simply yourself. Does that satisfy your naive views on good and evil?"

The Rookie thought a moment. "More than adequately. And, I have already set my goal."

"Excellent. Pray tell, what is it?"

"I'm going to get our weapons back."

Darth Sangraal raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed by the ambition. "Remember, young one, pride goes before a fall."

"I will not fail."

"For your sake, I hope you are right. And Brianna, to add a little incentive, if you pull your task off, I'll start splicing Force abilities into my lessons. Good luck, and remember-the Dark Side is always with you."

The Rookie looked away uneasily as Sangraal derezzed.


	29. Girls Night Out

Katarr.

Atton came out of the restroom looking sick.

"That is the last time I eat any energy bar from the Ebon Hawks one year old food stuffs," he gasped as the turbo-door to the bathroom slid shut. He was walking back to his room when he spotted Visas.

"Hey! Where are you going?" he asked.

"The restroom," Visas answered.

"Wait about, oh, five minutes. Lets the smell dissipate."

Visas' mouth twitched almost imperceptibly in disgust. "Thank you for warning me," she said curtly.

Both spotted Mical walking to the restroom, towel in one arm and whistling. He spotted Atton and Visas and waved.

"Mic-" Visas started to say, before Atton stopped her. "Wait for it..." he grinned.

"Oh, FORCE! This place should be cordoned off as a disaster area. The STENCH! Who would-AATTTOONNN!" Mical yelled.

Atton was already running, along with Visas, fully aware she should not have kept silent just so Mical could experience the silent but deadly.

The pair locked themselves in Visas' room. Atton was suddenly rolling on the floor, trying to control his laughter.

"I haven't laughed like that in months," he said, wiping the tears from his eyes.

Even Visas had a small smile. "I still have to use the restroom."

"Hey, listen, can I stay here? He's going to be looking for me. Mr. Jolly Old Sith will probably turn me inside out."

"If he was going to kill you, he'd just do it. He's a polite man, but he isn't subtle unless he wants to be."

"All the same...I'd rather not risk any reprisals."

Visas frowned. "I'll check. See if it's safe."

Visas left for a moment and Atton had the room to himself. He sat on the bed and for an instant and no more imagined what Visas would look like just resting quietly on it.

"You pig!"

Atton's head snapped towards the direction of the Female Zeltron Jedi he had killed.

"Not now," he said. "I was just having a good day. Why'd you have to bother me?"

"Just keeping you on your toes. You think you have a shot with her?"

"That's none of your business."

"You're wrong. It is. I have to deal with what is in your subconscious. We ALL have to. You have a nightmare, we have it. You have fantasies about a blind woman, we have to deal with that also. Speaking of which, your subconscious has become a VERY untidy place-"

The Jedi's ghost disappeared when Visas walked back in.

"He left eventually. He was fuming, but he left."

"Ah," Atton said. "I suppose that's my cue to leave." He rose from the bed

"Truth, be told, Atton, I actually wouldn't mind some company."

The lizard part of Atton's brain that constantly thought about sex froze for a moment at the potential double meaning. He grasped at straws until the shred of him that was still a gentleman took control.

"You, uh, need to talk, or something?" he asked lazily. "I'm not good at confessionals, but I can certainly listen."

"That is all I ask," Visas replied, going to her balcony and looking out on the restored city, picked clean of the tragedy. With her sight however, there was an indelible stain on the whole of it, one that would never fully fade.

"He played me for a fool, let me think my world, my home was dead. Gone forever. But why. For the first three months, he gave me no task, nothing I could do. I just sat and rotted away in a cell on his ship. He sent me on errands, but nothing serious. And then he hears about the Exile, and he orders me-ORDERS me-to track her and bring her to him."

"Wait, he didn't give you any serious task. No eliminating Jedi or anything?" Atton asked.

"No. He only tried to speak to me. Whenever he did, there was pain. Eventually, I got what he was trying to say, but...the tasks were so mundane. 'Fetch this', 'Go get that'. And it never occured to me to ask until now. My terror of him blinded me. Pun not intended."

"Maybe he was simply an idiot. All brawn, no brains..." Atton suggested.

"It is not a joke, Atton," Visas snapped.

Atton held his hands up. "Never said it was, lady. I'm just saying that maybe there was no meaning to your suffering. Happens to a lot of people. No meaning at all."

Visas turned to him. "Is that how you look at life, Atton?"

"I'm not saying there ISN'T some intrinsic, life-affirming meaning to suffering, sister...but if there is, I sure as hell haven't found it."

"Your view is...unusual for a smuggler. What did you use to do before that?"

Atton stared at her darkly for a second, ignoring the faces of his Jedi victims that simply stared out of the corner of his eye.

"Let's just say I at least know where I'm going when I die, without a doubt," he answered. "But you know what? it's actually kinda liberating. I'm gonna live it up right until the last breath."

His answer rang of falsehood. This man had no way to 'live it up', Visas realized instantly. This was the kind of man who could lay in bed for days nursing a bottle of Rodian Whiskey, waiting for the demon drink to claim him or his broken heart to give out. Either would be acceptable. The swagger, the wisecracks, the sad brown ribbed jacket he wore that had clearly seen better days, they may as well have been the shroud over a dead man.

In a way, he was worse than Katarr.

For the sake of not turning the conversation into a contest to see who was the most pitiable, Visas simply nodded in agreement, even as an overwhelming wave of said pity hit her hard over the realization.

"So," Atton asked, his affability returning to him. "You play Pazaak?"

It had taken little effort to size Atton up. He was a man who followed his impulses and natural wanderlust and never backed down from a challenge. The Rookie decided that out of all her potential targets, he would be the easiest to conscript to her cause.

Now if only she could find the man.

She forced patience on herself. That was the first lesson. Patience, followed by will.

A severe spike of anxiety hit her about not coming to Valia and confessing what she had done. She should stop this, walk straight up to Valia's room and hand her the damn thing.

And yet...her ambition stayed her hand.

Had not Valia said it was winner take all? Surely that in of itself was an endorsement of ends justifying means. She had also said not to be afraid of making her own judgment calls in the field. Even Mical had said all the items in the museum were simply rotting away.

Better it be with them, then in the hands of the Sith.

The Rookie stiffened her resolve and tried to trust her instincts.

After a moment of wandering the hallway of the hotel, the answer came to her: Visas' room.

Big surprise there, the Rookie thought.

She hit the alert button on the turbo door.

"Doors unlocked," came Atton's voice on the other side.

The Rookie went in and was surprised to find the two of them playing Pazaak sitting across each other on the bed. The sun had just finished setting.

The Rookie decided Visas Marr might prove useful. Though she was hesitant to trust her, the Rookie decided that without risk, there was no reward.

"What is it, Rookie?" Atton asked.

"We need to get our weapons back," the Rookie said, having recited this argument in her head multiple times before entering.

"Yeah? Good luck there. They have our weapons back at the dock. How are we gonna do that?"

"We steal them," the Rookie answered blankly.

Atton stopped and stared at her. "Check out the stones on the Echani. And here I was, thinking you were all prim and proper. My judgment must be failing. You got a plan, sister?"

"We sneak into the docks and steal them. Visas knows all about how to evade her people and you are a smuggler! You must know a couple of tricks."

"A couple of tricks won't help, Sister of the Echani. Miralukans see through the Force. In layman's terms, it means we pretty much have eyes in the back of our head," Visas replied, coolly examining her Pazaak hand.

The Rookie calmed the growing apprehension in her.

"If we wanted to distract them somehow, how would we go about it?" she asked.

Visas paused, thinking.

"One thing has been shown to be incredibly distracting to Miralukans, a certain vibration frequency produced by certain crystals, not unlike those used in lightsaber construction. A crystal of sufficient size will do it, but as to the frequency, I cannot say, for I am unsure," Visas answered, laying her cards on the bed.

The Rookie got angry, but struggled to suppress it.

"We need our weapons."

"Why are you so fixated on this anyway?" Atton asked.

"I-I don't relish the thought of being unarmed," the Rookie answered

"I don't relish it either, but trying to sneak our way back to the confiscated weapons and then back is a suicide mission."

The Rookie stared. "Give me a minute."

"Whatever you say," Atton mumbled, going back to his Pazaak game with Visas.

The Rookie left the room, going back to her own and pulling the holocron from a hiding place under her bed.

The Avatar of Sangraal sprang up immediately, arms folded.

"That was quick," she said.

"How similar is your holocron structure to a lightsaber crystal?" the Rookie asked.

Darth Sangraal blinked. "Fairly similar. Why?"

"Say you wanted to generate a frequency that disrupted Miralukan detection abilities. Could you do it?"

The avatar took a step toward the Rookie. The Rookie took a step back, intimidated.

"Are you asking for my help?"

"I-I guess so."

"You 'guess'? Yes or no, Brianna."

"Yes."

"Now, are you asking for my help as a favor-or because you are my apprentice?"

The Rookie was losing patience. She decided to humor the avatar for the sake of expediency.

"Yes. I am your apprentice," the Rookie answered in an annoyed manner.

Darth Sangraal hardened her gaze. "No need to get all excited," she replied sarcastically. "Fine, my apprentice. I will aid you like a good master would."

The avatar moved fast, sinking holographic fingers into the Echani woman's skull. The Rookie jerked from the seizure that came lightning flashing in her brain, flying backward into a wall where she lay slumped for a moment before waking up, coughing.

"What...did you do to me?" she gasped.

Sangraal chuckled, walking over and crouching beside her.

"How's that for your first taste?" she asked, smiling.

"What are you talk-" the Rookie stopped as unfamiliar knowledge of the Force pooled into her mind.

"The Queytek Meditation," Sangraal supplied, her accent somehow making the words more exotic. "Guaranteed to shield yourself from even the most perceptive of Force Sensitives. I wish I could go along with your first plan, but that would require you to actually bring me along-far too dangerous for a novice such as yourself. Until then, consider this a gesture of goodwill-from a Master to an Apprentice." With that, the avatar again derezzed.

The Rookie dusted herself off and hid the Holocron under her bed just as there was a door chime.

"Come in," she said.

Valia walked in, her usual gruff scowl replaced by a look of concern. "I heard a loud bang from your room. Came to investigate. You okay?"

"I just tripped. I'm fine," the Rookie answered.

Valia took one look and wasn't fooled.

"You look like you just ate kek for breakfast. While getting punched in the face. What gives?" Valia rasped.

"I'm fine, really," the Rookie answered.

"Is that so..." Valia stepped around the room, peering. She spotted nothing.

"Are you sure there is nothing wrong?" she asked.

"I-I-" the Rookie stopped.

"Nothing, really," the Rookie said.

Valia betrayed no emotion in her response.

"If you decide different, come talk to me," she replied before leaving.

The Rookie sighed as the door closed. A wave of shame suddenly hit her as she realized she had lied to Valia, who had shown nothing but tolerance of her and a willingness to guide.

She then tried to shut this out. What she was doing would ultimately benefit Valia, and possibly contribute to the mission's success, once everything was said and done, even Valia would have to acknowledge the Rookie had made a wise choice in taking whatever help she could get.

Once she reasserted her reasons, the Rookie felt comfortable with herself again.

Bastila had been simply meditating when she felt someone's approach.

Waving her hand, the turbodoor slid open and the Rookie walked in.

"Bastila, I have something I need your help with," the Rookie began.

Bastila offered her a chance to sit next to her. "What's on your mind?"

"I wish to retrieve our weapons, but others among the crew think it is too dangerous to go to the city landing docks and retrieve them," the Rookie answered, sitting down.

"It is," Bastila asserted.

The Rookie internally sighed in frustration.

"Do you know what these Miralukans are planning?" the Rookie asked, pressing the issue. "No? Neither do I. That is why we should be prepared."

"Rash action has no place at this time," Bastila replied, still trying to meditate.

The Rookie decided to try a different tactic after thinking for a moment.

"It might win you at least some small amount of goodwill if you took some initiative on behalf of the group."

Bastila did not react to the statement-and yet, somehow, the Rookie knew she had found the flame to stoke.

"I doubt anything I did would win me any sort of favor with Valia," Bastila asserted.

"Well, have you tried? Now is the time for everybody to be at their best. This could be the step that causes Valia to start trusting you more. Nothing is ever gained without risk."

Bastila stared, trying to work something out. The Rookie suppressed a gulp.

Finally, she said, "I suppose your words have wisdom. Very well. I...suppose there is no harm in at least trying. But if anything goes wrong, we retreat, deal?"

"Deal," the Rookie affirmed.

The pair had fairly little trouble getting out of the hotel. The Rookie had found she could increase the area of effect over her new ability to safely cover the two of them. The grass on the lawn of the hotel was soft, and didn't give away their footsteps as they crept past the Miralukan lookouts.

The two red moons of Katarr shined like a pair of glowing eyes in the night sky, the redness of the moons reminded the Rookie uneasily of Sangraal's gaze.

The lawn surrounded a fair amount of the hotel. The moonlight gave an unpleasant red glow to the building metal, then again, seeing things with the aid of the Force, the Rookie surmised the Miralukans cared little for color aesthetics.

The Rookie spotted a high wall just beyond the hotel lawn leading to the city. The pair quickly went over to it, with Bastila giving the Rookie a boost over it and the Rookie helping Bastila up it a moment later.

Both stopped as they spied a pair of the striped shirt Miralukans below them, both men, overlooking a road to the city below.

Bastila put a finger to her lips. She jumped down silently behind them and clasped both their heads.

"Sleep," she whispered. "You will remember nothing."

The Miralukan's collapsed, silent...and snoring.

Bastila began removing their clothes.

"What are you doing?" the Rookie asked.

Bastila looked up at her with a wry look. "You didn't expect us to move about as just Two Girls About Town, did you?"

"I can't see out of this thing," the Rookie complained, readjusting her blindfold.

"Don't touch it. It won't look right. Let go of you physical perceptions. The Force will guide you. See with your mind," Bastila instructed.

The Rookie shut her eyes beneath the blindfold, and after a moment of darkness, her mind's eye was suddenly producing an accurate picture of the street ahead of her.

"Wow. This...this is easy," the Rookie whispered.

"That was the first ability I ever learned that I thought was actually 'cool'," Bastila said, making her way past the crowds of shrouded men and women. There were few light sources, none of them powered, being mere fires on public alters where people gathered for warmth, or prayer. The Rookie could "see" a great deal of prayer going on, most done on prayer mats, as people whispered chants under their breath. She could hear singing going on in the far off distance. A hint of cinnamon carried itself through the wind.

"How is it the Order never had more Miralukans in its ranks is something I will never comprehend. They're so strong in the Force."

"I think you just answered your own question," the Rookie replied quietly brushing past more people. "These people are strong. It is unsurprising they would want to keep that strength for themselves, by keeping as many of their species out of the Order as possible. It also protects their religious beliefs from infection by Jedi or Sith ideals. I'm willing to bet ten credits they don't have the kinds of problems with Dark Side users that the Order does."

Bastila sighed.

"Yet again, the Jedi's reputation precedes it," Bastila spoke sadly. She spoke no more as they moved past the crowd, who cleared out of their way as best they could in the crowded streets.

They soon reached the landing docks, trudging through the white sand of the city streets. The docks had a number of ships refueling, none of them the size of a Republic cruiser. The two red moons glare was as terrible as ever. The Rookie took a peek from under her blindfold and saw an ocean stretching out past the docks, waves silently and small.

Bastila confidently led the Rookie to the stripe-shirted dock guards.

"You wish to take a break for an hour," she instructed, waving her hand.

The Guards shook their heads for a long moment and decided to walk off.

Bastila smirked "I still got it."

"Indeed," the Rookie agreed. They ventured past the security scanners.

"Now where did they put our weapons?" Bastila wondered out loud.

The weapons, however, were not what bothered the Rookie. What bothered her was the fact that for all the security they had gotten earlier when coming here, the place was now virtually silent.

"What's going on here? Where are the guards?" the Rookie asked as she stared at the empty computer terminals, the barrens desks-and the dead bodies of security, stuffed neatly into a little corner of the sprawling, high tech mess.

"Bastila!" the Rookie hissed, pulling off her blindfold. "Look!"

"I see it," Bastila answered grimly, frowning. "Who could've done this?"

"I did," a sinister, bleak voice answered.

The pair looked behind them

The figure was slim built, thin, wearing black and white Jedi robes and an Echani Demon Mask. It had a bronze centipede emblazoned on the forehead of the mask.

"I had initially been hoping to frame Valia for this, but you two will do just as nicely, I suppose."

"Shadow," Bastila whispered.

The Jedi Shadow bowed. "I am the Centipede, and I shall be your executioner today. It will be less painful if you do nothing."

The Shadow moved too fast for them to even blink. The Rookie counted at least twelve punches delivered to her face and torso in the course of a second.

Spitting blood, the Rookie was flung backward, felt her back impact against the edge of a desk, which she bounced off of and hit the floor, coughing.

Bastila went for a Force push, but the Centipede dodged it in the blink of an eye, delivering a blinding flurry of jabs all over her whole body in an instant. She hit the floor a bruised wreck.

The Rookie had barely finished processing this information when she felt a wave of kicks to her ribs. she collapsed as she felt all of them on one side crack. She didn't even have the breath to scream in pain.

The Centipede rushed out of the way as a desk was telekinetically flung at him by Bastila, who was beset by another onslaught of blows that tossed her into the wall.

The Rookie tried to crawl away and center herself as the Centipede continued to beat Bastila into submission at high speed.

Remembering Darth Sangraal admonishment on patience and will, she centered herself in the two seconds she had, trying to trust her instincts. Will, she realized, was the important lesson being taught here. One had to have the will to do something themselves and not just rely on others for their accomplishments.

The Rookie tried to remember the exact shape Valia's hand took when using her lethal pincer move. It was a long shot, but the Rookie had been lucky before...

She let go of conscious thought the instant she felt the Centipede approach. She focused all her will in the one microsecond she had before he reached her. Failure meant death.

As his fists shot out for a killing blow, The Rookie in the same millisecond used the last of her strength to launch herself at her opponent. Her survival instincts did a back flip of joy as she felt her fingers close around the Centipede's throat as tightly as she could.

The Centipede tried to pull away at high speed, but the Rookie instinctively clamped down, digging her fingers into his pulse as he tried to yank his neck away from her.

The force of his yank tore his throat away from him, and sent the Rookie tumbling backward. The Centipede fell to the ground, bleeding heavily, twitching so fast his body seemed to blur around the edges before he went still completely.

The Rookie coughed up more blood and stood up, crying out in pain as did. Her bleary gaze fixated on a security locker that had apparently been busted open by the desk Bastila had flung. In it, their weapons had been stacked against each other.

The Rookie spotted a travel bag left by one of the victim's of the Centipede's super-speed rampage. Slowly, she gathered the weapons in to the bag and then went back and checked if Bastila was still alive. Bastila coughed after a few moments of the Rookie's gentle prodding. The Rookie couldn't help her up. She was in too much pain. Bastila struggled up and the bruised pair looked at the scene of carnage about them.

"The assassin tried to frame us," the Rookie said. "We cannot allow him to succeed." She coughed again, having more trouble breathing.

"I have a solution," Bastila replied, spitting blood out. She held out her hand and a weak bolt of lightning shot out, hitting a wooden desk and setting it ablaze.

"C'mon, we have to leave, quickly," Bastila ordered as the fire began to spread.

The Rookie considered it a miracle she had made it back in her state, the first thing she did after she and Bastila had managed to sneak back to the hotel undetected was to collapse in front of Mical's room after hitting the door signal.

"Fine, fine, I'm coming out-WHAT IN BLAZES?! VALIA!" Mical yelled immediately checking the injured pair.

Valia came out of her room and saw, she rushed over, immediately checking the Rookie, while Mical examined Bastila.

"They've been both pummeled," Mical noted. "Was this done with clubs, Rookie?"

"No," Valia grimaced, spotting a bruise. "Fists."

That was the last thing the Rookie heard before blacking out.

"What were you thinking?!" Valia snapped at Bastila as soon as she woke up in bed.

"I was thinking I'd get our damn weapons back."

"And you just decided to drag the Rookie along and get her killed, while you were at it?!" Valia hissed.

"Drag her along? It was her idea!"

Valia stared, incredulous, and already fully in the grip of her legendary temper.

"Bastila, there is a reason I refer to Arren's daughter as a 'Rookie'...it is because SHE IS A DAMN ROOKIE!" Valia shouted. "I knew you were stupid, Shan, but your idiocy tonight surprises even me. What would possess you to listen to her?!"

"Her argument was compelling! I...I figured if maybe I took some initiative maybe...maybe you'd start trusting me more."

Valia simply stared,

"One foolhardy antic-even if it results in the death of a Jedi Shadow-is not enough to do that," Valia finally replied, calming herself. "I want common sense exercised by you from now on. I will not have this discussion with you again." Valia turned to leave.

"Like you never made any mistakes," Bastila snidely added.

Valia stopped, clenched her fists hard, but thought the better of what she had been considering and continued walking out.


	30. Two Masters

Hotel, two hours before sunrise.

The Rookie awoke to Valia's glare.

"What you did tonight was extremely dangerous. I'm not mad, but next time you have an idea like that...run it by me first," Valia finished, rubbing her eyes. "You're still a Rookie, 'cause if you weren't, I'd give you the chewing out of a lifetime. Bastila should have known better."

"I...understand, Valia," the Rookie replied.

"That said, it was successful what you both did. No risk, no reward. You retrieved our weapons, but I noticed a new one in our arsenal...this," Valia said, holding up the former lightsaber of Darth Thrasyllus.

"That...is mine," the Rookie admitted.

Valia examined the weapon, activating the dark blue blade.

"Been a long time since I've seen this weapon," Valia said wistfully. "Did Mical give this to you from the museum?"

"Yes. Said it 'suited' me," the Rookie answered, brow furrowed in recollection.

"Is that so..." Valia replied absently, examining the lightsaber. "You do know this was a Sith weapon? That doesn't bother you?"

"A weapon is a weapon."

"A good attitude...but sometimes, weapons DO say a great deal," Valia asserted. "You need more training if you are just going to kill Jedi Shadows the way you did. I'm prepared to give you that training, but what I teach is only passable between a master and apprentice. If you say yes, that's it, you break your oath to Atris. There is no turning back. You're mine until I say otherwise. Say no, and your luck will only take you so far."

"I accept," the Rookie answered.

Valia raised an eyebrow "R-really? Seriously?"

"Yes."

Valia was relieved that this final pretense with her could be done away with instead of slyly showing her the ropes.

"Okay kid. That's it. You do not serve Atris any longer. A person cannot have two masters," Valia replied, causing the Rookie to suppress a wince. "No complaints, no protests. Whatever you were taught previously goes out the window. Are we clear?"

The Rookie nodded.

Valia smiled and left Thrasyllus' lightsaber on the desk next to the Rookie. "Your real training has begun. You start learning to use this at the earliest chance."

Valia rose up from the bed and left the room.

"She's right, you know. You cannot serve two masters. At least, not at the same time," Darth Sangraal's avatar said, materializing. The sparsely attired Sith Lord sat at the edge of the Rookie's bed. The red eyes locked with the Rookie's blue.

"I got the weapons back. And I learned your lesson in will."

"Good, Brianna," Sangraal purred. "You are turning out to be an excellent student."

"How do you know my name?" the Rookie asked. "I never told you it."

Sangraal did not answer the question. "I think it's time for another little...incentive. Since you had such a tough night and all."

Without warning, Sangraal shoved her holographic fingers into the Rookie's head. The Rookie's whole body jerked, lightning flashing across her mind as the avatar downloaded the information.

When the Rookie was finally coherent again to notice the world around her, she glanced up angrily at Sangraal. "Good for you?" Sangraal asked, smirking.

"Don't do that without warning me," the Rookie spoke shakily. "What did you give me?"

"Search your memories, young one. Lightning is yours to command. Pretty basic as far as most abilities go, but still a classic. And now for your next lesson," Sangraal added, her voice seemingly washing over the Rookie's brain. "Timing. Timing is as important, if not more so, than patience or will. You must combine the three. You succeeded with the first two, but your sense of timing left a great deal to be desired. Show me an example of the most appropriate moment to act in a situation, and you will advance yourself even further," Sangraal commanded. Of course, if you can find some way to work what I gave you into the lesson, there will be a...bonus," the avatar trailed off. "Take care, apprentice, for whom much is given, much is expected." The avatar derezzed.

The Rookie examined her hand and noted with fascination, the lightning arcing between her fingers.

The first thing Valia had done after leaving the Rookie's room was head straight to Mical's.

She entered and found him sitting on the floor meditating.

"They'll be alright," he said casually. "The Broken ribs on your student wiere the hardest to heal of course, but that's never stopped me before..."

"We need to talk," Valia stated flatly.

At the tone of her voice, Mical suddenly rose.

"About?" he inquired.

"Why did you give Arren's daughter that lightsaber?" Valia rasped. "It's a Sith weapon. What it stood for is not easily washed away."

"It's been long enough, Valia. And besides, given its previous owner, don't you think it should go to her?"

"No. I don't want the Rookie tainted by the Sith Philosophers legacy. I didn't spend all these years trying to wash my life of them just to foist it on my apprentice."

"There is no taint. The Rookie deserves to have that weapon. It's probably all that is left of her mother in any case."

"You still cling to that tired theory," Valia snapped. "Arren Kae was not Darth Thrasyllus. Arren had honor, drive, pride-"

"All the things the Philosophers look for. I hate to say this, as it almost seems a criticism somehow of people's free will, but the very fact that Arren thought enough outside the box to have a girl is how they managed to recruit her."

"Arren simply wanted what everyone else wants. A life. Happiness."

"Darth Thrasyllus was the one person besides Kashtu who could go toe to toe with you. You yourself told me she had a nearly perfect physique. Both of these were traits Arren also had."

"Coincidence."

"You still cling to that tired theory," Mical echoed cynically. "The woman you've taken such a liking to had a Sith Lord for a parent, just like you, and just like me."

"Darth Kashtu was not my mother. She was a shade from Jigoku that fancied herself my mother. The only woman I ever considered my mother died years ago."

Mical folded his arms. "Why is the truth so hard for you to accept, Valia?"

"Because Arren was my friend!" Valia replied with a tortured rasp. "I trusted her! I fought alongside her in the wars! I'd be DEAD if it wasn't for her!" Valia fists were clenched in rage. She trembled with anger. "No way she was a Sith! I would've known!"

"Valia, you were young. You were going through _hero worship." _he rejoined bluntly.

For the first time in her life, Valia actually wanted to deck him. For the sake of the many years they had been friends however, she simply clenched her fist tighter.

Valia, for some strange reason felt herself drifting back to the bad old days...

Dantooine, 19 years ago.

Valia simply sat on the cot of her cell, trying to bide her time.

The door opened and in stepped Darth Thrasyllus, the black leather bindings that made up her outfit as foreboding and sinister as the first time they had met."

"Come with me, young one," she said in her synthesized voice.

"Where are we going?" Valia asked.

"You'll see," Thrasyllus replied.

As they walked through the darkened corridor, Valia could see a number of other people in cells with transparisteel doors. Many of them horrifically deformed, covered in tumors or scarring-and possessing such a sad countenance that Valia felt an upwelling of pity that such a creature should be born.

"Failed experiments. The road to your success was not a smooth one. Despite our considerable knowledge of genetics, invitro fertilization, and cloning modules, when the Force is thrown into the mix...even our best preparations are sometimes not enough. Of course, if one is looking to create monsters, the people you see here are more than adequate. If one wants art, however...perfection...that takes some considerable effort. Do not judge us by these misshapen men and women. They were all valuable steps in the learning process," she went on as they walked. "They are cared for, if that is what you are wondering."

"You're better off putting them out of their misery," Valia snorted.

"Unlike the Jedi, we prefer to own up to our mistakes," Thrasyllus replied crossly. "You do not belong with them. They will NEVER appriciate you. You could give them your whole life, and if you make one single choice they do not approve of, you'll be cast out, labeled. Better Jedi than you have been expelled this way. Dogma has destroyed them."

"The irony in your statement is overwhelming. Let me guess, it happened to you, didn't it?"

"No, but it will, Thrasyllus answered, holding up one of her large cards with a star pattern. "The stars have told me so."

Valia snorted at this. The philosophers were mad, every last one of them.

"The Jedi will stop you...and I will raze this place to the ground if I have too."

Thrasyllus gently turned Valia's head back towards her. "You think much of the Jedi's chances. The champions of yesterday are no longer what they once were. Even now, Kashtu cripples the remaining defense. You can almost feel our victory vibrating the air itself if you pay attention..."

The Enclave burned.

The smoke rose through the afternoon sky like a great and terrible pillar.

Most of the mercenaries that had been hired for this surprise attack were dead. Many of the acolytes were as well. Kashtu could spot many Jedi still defending the courtyard, stubbornly holding their own.

Throwing her white cloak behind her, Kashtu waded into combat activating Valia's lightsaber, slicing one human Jedi across the neck while frying another with lightning.

Five more charged toward her, She whipped the blade around, slicing them neatly across their midsections.

Spotting one more knight battling an acolyte, she extended her hand and the knight was soon gasping clutching at his throat. The acolyte ran him through without a second thought.

The acolytes who spotted her cheered as she launched a massive telekinetic pulse at eight more Jedi who had come out to reinforce their brethren. They were flung back like ragdolls, the pulse smashing their internal organs and collapsing part of the entrance to the enclave. Kashtu let off another rope of lightning at any Jedi who retreated. Soon, the enclave's courtyard defenders had scattered, fleeing the grounds as a number of acolytes pursued them.

She dusted herself off and approached Darth Socratus, who had been sent to oversee the final cleanup. Socratus spotted her and nodded, flicking strands of his...her white hair and nodded at Kashtu.

"Your presence was hardly needed, my old student. We would have prevailed eventually," Socratus told her as they walked to the entrance of the Enclave's sub-level, the old ancient voice a total contrast to the clone body of Arren Kae wrapped around it.

"Perhaps, but I wanted to help you speed things up. Have you found Bron-Son?"

"He escaped, unfortunately."

Kashtu did not chastise him. She knew how dangerous and unpredictable Kenobi could be. She and the first of the Sith Philosophers had suffered the man at his absolute worst.

"When you do find him, take no chances. Blow up the entire area of wherever he's hiding if you have to. And check for IED's in the Enclave. You know he's left them behind."

"I do remember what it is like to fight him, I assure you," Socratus replied.

"Good. The last thing we need his him fowling things up for us again. Have you found my son?"

"We went to where Lady Thrasyllus said she left him but he had dug himself out of the rubble and escaped.

"Escaped?" Darth Kastu paused, frowning. "That isn't like him. He usually stands and fights."

"I know. I've been wondering about that myself. More than likely he's with Kenobi, but there couldn't have been time for them to have a pre-arranged meeting place. I made sure the attack was that sudden," Socratus answered.

Do you suppose we can find some way to retrieve Lady Sangraal from the prison in his chest?" Kashtu asked.

"I hope so. Force knows we could use her help right about now," Socratus sighed. "We are besieged on all sides, my student. The Philosophers barely survived after your demise on Rhen Varr. We were forced to hide as mercenaries, put our holdings into shell corporations. It's taken us years to build up this kind of strength," Socratus replied wearily, forcing open the sub-level doors with a wave of his hand.

"What is your opinion on Valia, my old master? Can she be turned?"

"Where there's a will, there's a way," Socratus answered. "But she is very militant. Besides her looks, you and her seem to have almost nothing in common."

"She's fragile, like I was at her age."

"Forgive me, but...are you sure we are talking about the same person?"

"She is burdened with guilt. I think she desires to be loved. Accepted. But she has yet to understand she will never find such a thing among Jedi," Kashtu replied. "I for one, believe she can be made to see reason."

"You play with fire, student," Socratus admonished as they walked the smoking, abandoned, rubble filled halls of the sub-level. "Besides, your record as a parent is not without blemish."

"I tried to be a mother to my son. As flawed as he was, I created him. I owed him that much," Kashtu replied tersely, rounding a corner. "I know I can save her, that I can save both of them, despite everything."

"Then why do you ask me for my opinion? You know how to think for yourself," Socratus asked, raising an eyebrow as she stepped over the body of a dead Jedi.

"You seem to be of the opinion that it's too dangerous to even try."

"I did not say that. I said you should be cautious. From what Ptolemus told me of her, I am of the opinion that she is loyal to the Jedi simply because they found her first. And that she will be loyal to the point of unreason. I'm saying that you will need something to shake her loyalty-"

Kashtu sensed the blade before she saw it, bringing Valia's acid yellow blade to guard in front of her face as the green blade appeared out of the ether.

Kashtu smiled as she got a look at the unusual looking young girl in dark red robes, skin almost papery white, with short cut hair the color of snow and eyes the color of blood.

Revan was forced back by Kashtu's one handed guard and righted herself.

"Odd species. What are you, Nagai? An albino?" Kashtu asked clinically.

"Not sure, actually," Revan breathed, launching a concentrated ball of Force energy.

Kashtu deflected it away with a swipe of her hand.

"Ah, Padawan Revan. So good of you to join the party," Socratus said pleasantly.

"This party's over," Revan replied staring hard at the toga-wearing Sith. "What have you done to Arren Kae?! You possessing her or something?!"

Socratus turned to Kashtu. "Maybe Ptolemus does have a point about keeping a mask on."

"Gee, you think?" Kashtu asked, not taking her eyes off Revan. "Why do you always choose a woman's body to inhabit? I never understood that."

"Maybe I want to feel pretty," Socratus chuckled, noting with interest that Revan suppressed a snicker of her own. "Maybe I want to look at myself naked in the mirror now and then, as Valia suggested when we first met."

This forced Kashtu to take a wry look at Socratus. "Wait...do you look at yourself naked in a mirror?"

Socratus gave a half smile. "Maybe,"

Kashtu rolled her eyes, and then focused on Revan again.

"Surrender, Padawan. You have no chance," Kashtu commanded.

"I don't know. I like to think I do," Revan replied. "Why do you look like Valia?"

"She's my daughter, obviously."

"So she was a spy?"

"Hardly. We never even met before today. She's just as surprised."

Revan still had her guard up, trying to determine the best time to strike. "So who are you guys? Exar Kun loyalists? Naddists? Cult of Ragnos?"

Kashtu tilted her head slightly. "You are very curious, aren't you?"

"I just like to know what I'm dealing with."

"We're not associated with any of those barbarians if you must know. We're the philosopher faction. I am Darth Kashtu.

Revan did a double take. "You're Kreia's master?"

"At one point, yes."

Revan glared and angled her saber, pointing it at Kashtu's chest. "One of your minion's stabbed her. She could have died had I not found her."

Kashtu stared at Socratus with a questioning gaze. He/She nodded, confirming it. "Ptolemus did it earlier. Said he wanted her out of the way for a while."

"Hmm..." Kashtu mumbled, turning to Revan. "If you surrender, Padawan, I will provide medical treatment to Kreia."

Kashtu suppressed a smile as she began to watch the gears turning in Revan's head.

"If you fight, that automatically makes you an enemy, one we have no qualms about taking down, and Kreia? Well...too bad for her, huh?" Kashtu asked. "Let me guess, you have her resting on some bed, lying very still with a kolto patch over the wound?"

"She was your student. That should count for something," Revan snapped.

"She hasn't been my student for a long time. She turned her back on me years ago and caused me and my followers such grief that it is a wonder I don't simply pull the information from your head and kill her after wiping the floor with you. However," Kashtu continued silkily. "I _did _just recently come back from the dead. I'm feeling generous. Festive. And pretty. Oh, so pretty. I want to cut you a little slack. So, what do you say?"

"Your situation is untenable, Padawan," Socratus added. "We have all the exits covered. You cannot fight us off and gain Kreia medical attention at the same time. This is your last chance."

Revan looked at both of them, still on guard.

Finally, after a moment of hesitation, she shut her green blade off.

"Very well," Revan said, head lowered, not looking at any of them. "I surrender. Just help her."

"A wise choice," Socratus commended. "Your lightsaber, if you please,"

Revan handed over her weapon to Socratus, a hilt made of a white, enamel like material, with small, art fully painted images of red orchids on the surface.

"For a Jedi you have a lot of flare. I bet the Masters take every chance to scold you for it," Kashtu noted as Socratus tossed her the weapon, which she added to her belt.

"They can be...harsh...at times...but what else can you expect from Jedi Masters?" Revan replied cautiously.

"You should never be satisfied with the way things are. They can always be better. I wouldn't abandon my individuality were I you, Revan. It is a strength, not a weakness," Kashtu chided. "Your masters are too set in their ways to see times are changing. Their brand of law bringing, even their very image of what a Jedi should be is dying out, and they can't even see it. You should think about a different career."

"What, with you?" Revan asked, throwing her a sarcastic look.

"Well, there are others besides us. You could throw in with the Jal-Shey, but they are inherently a bunch of self serving mercenaries. All they can offer you is credits and a dental plan."

"In the interest of fairness, it is a _very _good dental plan," Socratus added.

"If you throw in with us, you get all the means to bring order to the galaxy, without any red tape."

"I think I stick with the Jedi, thanks," Revan replied calmly.

Kashtu blinked and suddenly felt something ominous hovering over the young woman's future. It was clouded. Very clouded.

"If you change your mind, come talk to me. We'll do lunch," Kashtu finished with a smile.

Socratus took Revan by the hand and escorted her out, the toga like robe billowing behind him/her.

Kashtu continued forward, making a mental note to keep track of Revan in the future. She continued to Where Ptolemus had told her Vandar's personal quarters lay.

Philosopher base, Dantooine.

Thrasyllus led Valia to a nearby cell.

"As a show of good faith, I've decided to allow you to see your friend, Atris," Thrasyllus spoke.

"If she has been harmed," Valia warned, "Your death in particular will be especially protracted."

"I would no sooner harm her than I would my own child," Thrasyllus replied, clearly insulted. "Not willingly, anyway."

"When did it become fashionable for a Sith to have a child?" Valia asked. "And who could possibly find you attractive?"

"Most men think I am...I don't always wear this old thing, you know," Thrasyllus answered, hitting the open button on the door pad and watching it slide into the floor. "You have one minute. Do not waste it."

Valia immediately strode in to where Atris lay huddled on a cot, crying.

Valia immediately went over, fighting the white hot rage at whatever her captors had done.

"Atris? ATRIS! Are you alright?" Valia asked, shaking her new friend on the shoulder.

Atris threw herself immediately into Valia's arms. "You're alive!"

"Never mind me! What of you? Did they hurt you?" Valia asked.

Atris blinked for a moment and started sobbing into Valia's shoulder.

"I-I killed someone trying to escape! It was an accident," she choked out through her tears. "It was horrible. There was blood everywhere...I'm sorry...so sorry."

"You did your duty, why are you-" Valia stopped herself. The Jedi were not the same as her old masters. It was still something she was getting use to. And Atris was a librarian at heart. A purveyor of wisdom should not have to experience being brought low to the world of savagery Valia had been taught to exploit and thrive in.

Indeed, she would have to make her enemies punishment for the crime they had inflicted on Atris a severe one.

Righteous hatred filled her as Thrasyllus spoke.

"Time to go,"

Valia was clenching her fists so tightly they had started to bleed as she walked out.

Katarr, present day.

Valia snapped out of the extremely vivid memory, shaking her head. They were coming more frequently, and involuntarily.

"You okay? You zoned out there for a second," Mical spoke.

"I'm fine," Valia rasped. "Do not commit such an indiscretion with the Rookie in the future. If there is even the slightest possibility your theory of Arren is correct, I do not want her to know. This is the worst time to be conflicted."

"I won't go against your orders, Valia, but I do suggest that you tell her the possible truth yourself. If I'm right, she deserves to know the truth. At least consider that," Mical replied coolly, smoothing his blond hair over.

Valia nodded. "I apologize if I was rude. I...owe Arren much."

"I know. but sometimes we have to face things we don't like. Fact of life," Mical replied sagely. "Get some rest, Valia."


End file.
